Drink One For Me
by KLMeri
Summary: In the past, Leonard has been more than willing to attend a Spring Fling or two as his captain's wing man. But when Spock starts tagging along, Leonard realizes he may have been assuming some things he shouldn't have. K/S/M. - COMPLETE
1. Prologue

**Title**: Drink One For Me (1/4)  
**Author**: klmeri  
**Fandom**: Star Trek TOS  
**Pairing**: Kirk/Spock/McCoy  
**Summary**: In the past, Leonard has been more than willing to attend a Spring Fling or two as his captain's wing man. But when Spock starts tagging along, Leonard realizes he may have been assuming some things he shouldn't have.

* * *

**Prologue**

Leonard Horatio McCoy is by no means a slow-witted man. He ranks in the top of his profession. He has published more revolutionary medical articles in two decades than most of his senior colleagues have in their lifetimes. While his name may sometimes be said with dislike, it is always coupled with an underlying respect for his intelligence and his empathetic insight.

How is it, then, that he has come to be in this situation and not realized until a moment ago this is where he has been heading all along?

Two people stand before him. Leonard owes them his life a hundred times over. He has nearly given his life for them as many times. What they want from him is a simple answer, an honest explanation—one that they deserve.

While they look upon Leonard, expectant, he comes to understand two things almost simultaneously: first, at the root of a simple answer lies a messy stew of feelings; and second, he has no idea when a platonic kinship became an intimacy he is deeply afraid to lose.

In this situation can he afford to be honest with them? Is he capable of dishonesty?

He thinks not, which is why when Leonard opens his mouth, he regrets what he is going to say even before he says it.

"I was jealous."

Beyond a slight, curious tilt of his head, Commander Spock offers none of the usual comebacks. Captain Kirk's face does not change expression at all.

Oh yes, Leonard regrets his answer. But, as hard as he may try, he cannot bring himself to regret the feelings behind it—and that is the true explanation he fears to give them.

Of course, in that moment Kirk, Leonard's longtime friend, finds his voice and demands, "_Explain._"

* * *

There is some backing up one has to do in order to truly trace Leonard McCoy's explanation back to its origins. The beginning could very well start at his commission aboard the USS Enterprise, or perhaps even farther back to the day McCoy and Kirk first met. That was an interesting event, with a twenty-something Jim Kirk (an eager junior officer from the USS Republic) encountering the sharpest-tongued medic he had ever had the ill fortune to meet. Or so Kirk would think at the time. But after a day or so under McCoy's care while his injury from a firefight with a penal colony fugitive healed, a tentative, if somewhat short-lived, friendship formed between the two men. Years later and promotions abound, Jim specifically requested the transfer of Dr. McCoy to replace Piper, the Enterprise's retiring CMO. He had always been known to be the kind of man whose hunches were never wrong, and had expressed that very sentiment to McCoy in a personal missive accompanying the paperwork.

Leonard is remembering that moment from the past, his first steps aboard the Enterprise, while his friend pours him a drink.

"You're the only captain I know who has a wet bar in his quarters," he says.

Kirk hands him a mint julep and a napkin. "Then you don't know very many captains."

Leonard accepts the napkin with a raised eyebrow.

Jim answers the unspoken question. "In case it's awful." There is a touch of humor to his mouth as he smiles. "I spent more of my days as a student in the Academy Archives than I did learning to make drinks."

"Awful or not, thanks," drawls Leonard. Then he tastes the beverage, and a significant pause ensues while he decides whether or not to swallow his mouthful of the horrible stuff.

"Told you," Jim says ruefully. "What did I forget?"

Leonard swallows with a slight grimace and replies, "The mint, I think."

The man turns back to his bar and picks up a packet. "I thought that was included. The directions are fairly simple. They say 'Stir.'"

Leonard takes the packet from his friend and throws it in the recycler. "Jim, if I have to explain to you why you can't make a decent drink from a mix, then you really did spend your days with your head buried in a pile of books."

Jim winks. "On the upside, I taught myself Klingon."

Leonard barks out a laugh and, without thinking, takes another sip of the offensive mint julep. His expression must be truly comical after that, because Jim breaks into a broad grin and slaps his shoulder.

The man takes the drink out of Leonard's hand and disposes of it, promising to make a better version next time around.

Leonard isn't certain he wants to endure a second round, but for Jim's sake he supposes he will.

Jim lifts a purple, gourd-shaped bottle with the offer, "Brandy?"

Leonard nods. "Straight. That way, even you can't mess it up."

"Don't challenge me, Bones," his friend replies mildly, pouring each of them a small tumbler's worth of the liquor. "I might just have to take you up on it."

"Color me surprised. Now give over that glass, Jim-boy. For some reason, I have this horrendous taste in my mouth!"

"You wound me, Doctor."

"Funny, my taste buds feel the same way."

Their light banter continues on good-naturedly until they are settled at a round table large enough to accommodate a group of four. Yet even with just the two of them, they don't optimize the space by sitting across from each other. Leonard's elbow is close enough to brush against Jim's.

"So," he steers the conversation into more practical territory, as he is originally there by formal invitation, "is something on your mind, Captain, or did you just call me here as a guinea pig?"

"Have you heard of the Aurelis Moon Gala?"

"You mean that fancy shindig the Aurelians throw every year in hopes of improving their political backing?"

Jim's mouth quirks. "That's not the official description, Bones, but yes. That one."

"Frankly, it sounds like more trouble than it's worth."

"I wouldn't disagree." But the man next to Leonard sighs. "Unfortunately I've been told attendance is mandatory for the captain of the Federation flagship this year."

"Joy," Leonard mutters into his glass.

"I'm glad you think so, Bones, because you're going with me."

"Wait, what? Why me!"

Jim just looks at him.

Leonard sighs, then grumbles, but inevitably agrees. "Huh, won't that give those high-collared popinjays a stir? Captain Kirk brings his CMO along as his date."

Jim suddenly looks uneasy. "Do you think Spock would consider going?"

That's a strange question to Leonard. "You and I both know he has an aversion to, well, any type of social function—especially the kind that requires tedious diplomacy and vapid conversation." Leonard hesitates. "But if you want him with us, there's an easy-enough solution."

"I don't want to make it an order."

"Then ask, Jim. The worst he can do is turn you down."

Jim sighs again and drains the brandy from his glass.

Leonard taps his finger against his own tumbler before asking, "Is there a particular reason why you need Spock?"

Jim doesn't give a proper explanation, simply shakes his head and says, "Reinforcements."

_I've always been your reinforcement, _Leonard argues silently.

He raises his drink to his mouth and swallows the rest of it. "Make sure you convince him, then."

"Thanks, Bones."

"Don't mention it."

Leonard changes the subject.

* * *

**TBC**

**Heheheh. I'm allowed to write this, aren't I? And drown you in feels later on? Because that's what I totally intend to do. :)**


	2. Part One

**I don't know what happened! Goodbye. :/**

* * *

**Part One**

The survey of the plant's surface is to be a quick affair because the Enterprise is scheduled to be in a different sector in two solar days. The individuals who are to beam down have been informed that their sampling, measuring, and cataloging must be completed within a six-hour period. Being no stranger to working under tight timetables, Science's excitement to be planetside is not lessened by the brevity of the exercise. The department will spend the next week analyzing what is collected and comparing their results to the records of the previous explorations of the planet.

Certainly that is something to look forward to—or at least Leonard thinks so while he enters the transporter room on the heels of two bright-eyed Science officers.

The person standing beside the transporter tech is none of than the head of that department. Padd in hand, Mr. Spock greets the last of his officers and checks them off the survey party roster as present. Then he gives his attention to McCoy, who sidles up to the transporter console in anticipation of what the Vulcan is about to say.

Spock does not disappoint him. "Dr. McCoy, I can think of no reason for you to be here other than to accompany the landing party to the surface."

"Looks that way."

"May I inquire what happened to the staff member appointed for medic duty?"

"He received a last-minute assignment. I'm substituting."

They stare at each other, Leonard calm, Spock unmoving.

Finally, Spock lifts his padd and makes a few keystrokes. "The medic reassignment has been approved. Proceed to the transporter."

Leonard steps toward the platform with clear reluctance. "Can't we take a shuttle?"

Spock moves out from behind the console. "The allotted time for the survey is already quite constrained, Doctor. To prepare a shuttlecraft would delay our work by an additional hour."

"All right, all right, I was just makin' a comment."

"And now you have been enlightened as to why that comment is illogical."

An indignant Leonard stalks to the transporter pad, and the others already there shuffle themselves around to leave two spaces open next to each other. Spock takes one, and Leonard steps up to the other.

He grips his tricorder kit as the tech activates the machine that will scatter his atoms. "Here we go..." he mutters to himself, a calming technique which has never worked that well.

Leonard reforms on the planet with nary a molecule out of place but he still complains, "We were lucky that time."

Spock only cocks an eyebrow at him before taking charge of the team. The planet's survey is officially underway.

* * *

The scientists separate into threes and head into the undergrowth in different directions. Spock, as the last of Science left behind in the clearing, finishes his notes for his official log, and then trades out his padd for a tricorder. He walks the border of the clearing as he scans it and Leonard, hands at his back, trails along after him.

The Vulcan stops with his tricorder aimed at a thin, waspish-looking tree with iridescent leaves, which he studies for some time while he recalibrates his device. Leonard circles around behind him, bouncing up and down on his toes to stretch his calf muscles, and begins to fiddle with his own tricorder. Spock moves to a different tree. Leonard follows him.

By the time they have made their way through the forest to another clearing, Leonard has taken to peering over the Vulcan's shoulder for a better look at whatever Spock appears interested in. If the doctor also thinks the plant species is interesting, he remarks, "Fascinating."

But the fourth time he does this, he accidentally leans in too close and bumps into the other officer, who freezes in place.

A few seconds pass with neither of them saying a word.

Then Spock rounds on Leonard in an unusually aggressive way. "Doctor, do you require assistance?" His tone is too strong to be labeled polite.

Leonard shakes his head. "No."

"Then why are you here?"

"Excuse me?"

"To be specific," Spock says, "why are you following me when you are free to move in any direction?"

Leonard stiffens. "Can't I make my own judgment of where I want to go?"

The Vulcan's stare is so intent on the doctor that he doesn't even blink.

Leonard huffs. "Never mind," he says gruffly, adjusting the strap of his medkit across his chest. "I can tell when I'm not wanted." He retreats to the opposite side of the clearing.

After a few seconds, Spock calls him back.

Leonard turns around.

"I was merely... curious," is the explanation. Spock says this while staring down at his tricorder as if it contains some terribly fascinating data. "The last survey expedition to this planet noted native vegetation one point six-nine kilometers to the north which is similar in constitution to the berries farmed on Cerberus for their medicinal properties."

Leonard comes back across the clearing slowly. "That's interesting. If you add an extra sample to the survey kit, I could always run some tests of my own back on the ship."

"I will select it at your discretion." Spock heads in the direction which must be north.

If Leonard can tell when he isn't wanted, he can also tell when someone is offering an unspoken apology. Mollified, he hurries after his companion.

* * *

At midday, Leonard helps Spock pack up the samples collected for the survey thus far for transport to the ship. This is the opportunity he has been waiting for, and so he says, "Jim told me you agreed to attend the Gala."

"There was no reason to decline the request."

Leonard eyes the Vulcan. "It was that easy, huh?"

Spock spares him the briefest of glances.

Leonard packs a few more samples, mulling things over until he comes to a quiet conclusion. "You've changed, Spock."

The Vulcan reacts by withdrawing his hands from the container and sitting back on his heels.

"Doctor, it is obvious you have joined this survey with the intention of disturbing my work. Why?"

"When you put it like that, you make me sound like a bad person." Leonard purses his mouth. "Did it occur to you that I'm trying to broach a sensitive subject while we have some privacy to discuss it?"

"I have an office."

"So do I." Leonard looks away. "But this isn't exactly ship's business, and I don't always want to stand on formalities with you."

He expects some smart remark to that statement.

Spock surprises him by saying, "What would you like to know?"

Leonard fiddles with a label. "Did Jim say anything specific about why he wants you there?"

"He made a statement regarding reinforcements, but the explanation was somewhat unwilling and I did not pursue it."

Sitting back on his heels too, Leonard releases a slow breath. "Then maybe he really does need you."

"I am sorry, Doctor, I do not follow."

"Nothing, Mr. Spock. I'm just... surprised, is all." But he cannot leave it at that, he knows, for all the fuss he made about being able to communicate with Spock. "Jim asked me to go too."

"I am aware of that. It was part of his tactic to convince me to agree. His exact words were, 'You know how bored Bones will be without you.'"

"That skulduggerd!"

"Indeed." Spock pauses. "I will admit, I do not often understand your penchant for changing words to suit your needs, but in this case it seems very appropriate."

Leonard holds back a snort. He has a thing or two more he wants to call Jim, all right. What aggravates him most is that the observation isn't wrong. Spock _does_ keep Leonard engaged—not that Leonard ever plans to admit so out loud. Spock would be smug about it for years!

No, his real problem is explaining what's on his mind without coming across as a jealous fool.

He sighs. There is nothing he can do but try his best.

"You probably know that it's not unusual for the Captain to ask me to accompany him to formal events—often informal ones too. So, you see," Leonard hedges, "it's something _I_ do with him."

"If you are attempting to tell me that you would be uncomfortable in my company, you need only say so."

Leonard's hands come up automatically in denial. "No! No, that's not it at all, Spock. I'm not _jealous_. Well, maybe I am a tiny bit—"

One of Spock's eyebrows rises up half an inch.

"—but my point is something else entirely." He scowls for a second. "And don't give me that crap about not enjoying your company. We both know I like you."

The eyebrow climbs higher.

Realizing what he just said, the doctor flushes. "That... came out wrong. Forget I just said that, Spock, 'cause I swear I will deny it to my dying breath. God, what a mess! My point is this: I think Jim is good for you and vice versa, but it concerns me that he's changing his M.O."

"M.O.?"

"_Modus operandi_."

"Ah."

"At the Gala I'll act as his wing man."

Spock opens his mouth but Leonard shushes him quickly with "Don't ask me to explain that. Let's just say it involves weird human courting rituals."

Spock's other eyebrow joins its twin near his hairline.

"I will also act as his buffer," Leonard goes on to explain. "But you, Spock... what does he intend for you to do? Stand there and look pretty?"

"Doctor, your choice of words is starting to alarm me."

Leonard is too deep into musing to care. "You do have some diplomatic skill, it's true. More than me at any rate. And you could fend off amorous advances by simply looking clueless, which I don't think is far-fetched at all for you. You wouldn't recognize flirting if it came up and tugged on your pointed ear."

"Doctor..."

"But this still doesn't sit right with me, Spock. Maybe he _does_ want you to stand there. Observe."

"Dr. McCoy."

Leonard rubs at his chin thoughtfully. "If that's his motivation, then what is it about this party that would require a Vulcan as astute as you are to be witness to what happens?"

"_Leonard_."

The sound of his first name startles Leonard enough to shift his attention back to Spock. "Did you just call me Leonard?"

"It was necessary."

Leonard nearly smiles. "What a warm, fuzzy feeling I have!"

Spock gives him a strange look. "Exposure to this atmosphere seems to be affecting you oddly, Doctor. Perhaps you should return to the ship."

"No. You're going to help me figure out what Jim isn't telling us."

"...Very well."

Realizing that they had packed all the samples while they talked, Leonard clicks the container lid down and locks it. Spock rises to his feet and opens his communicator to arrange for the container's pickup.

Leonard watches him for a moment, then says a bit smugly to himself, "Knew you wouldn't recognize it, hobgoblin." Then he too stands up, and everything returns to business as usual.

* * *

Aurelis has twin moons, both of a bluish, glittery hue mainly attributed to the heavy deposit of ore found in their soil. But the similarities end there, for one moon has been beautifully cultivated to lure travelers and the other is nothing more than an eyesore. It has no waystation, nor could have one with the volume of trash and debris that trail its orbiting wake. The surface is pocked with craters and crashed ships and somewhere, supposedly, the remnants of a failed mining empire. The contrast is so undeniably startling between the moons, the sight has often been described as a billionaire's estate sharing a neighborhood with a junkyard.

Leonard has to wonder how a race as prideful as the Aurelians could think so little of their abandoned moon. Why have they never tried to revitalize it? Is it ruined? Toxic?

He doesn't know.

Once the Enterprise has properly established orbit and communicated their arrival, Leonard has no difficulty in making out the structure that protects the Aurelis Moon's inhabitants from its inhospitable atmosphere. The Dome, as the structure is called, covers a third of the surface. From space, it looks like a large latticework of mirrors that, similar to a funhouse, throw the starlight back into space with odd distortions. The occasional charter-craft comes and goes from the Dome, shuttling passengers to and from neighboring ships.

Soon enough, it is the Enterprise's turn to join the melee.

_So much for a shuttle ride_, Leonard thinks wistfully from his place on the transporter pad.

To the person next to him, he gripes, "This collar is strangling me!" He tugs at it futilely, trying to alleviate the choke-hold his formal Starfleet uniform has on his neck.

Spock, quite familiar with this complaint, makes no rejoining comment. Instead he directs his attention to the third member of their party. "Captain, we will be late if we do not beam down in the next minute and seven seconds."

"Yeah, Jim, what's the hold up?"

The man in question murmurs something to the person behind the transporter console. That person is the Enterprise's Chief Engineer, Montgomery Scott, who in turn shakes his head.

Kirk sighs softly. "You two..." he says as he steps away from the console, not needing to add anything else to express his sentiment. He joins them on the platform. "All right, Scotty." Jim briefly lifts his hand as confirmation of their readiness to depart.

Mr. Scott nods. "Aye, Capt'n." Then the man winks at the trio. "Ye gents stay out of trouble doun there."

It's Jim who offers a slight smile. "Duly noted, Mr. Scott."

Within the Dome, the three Starfleet officers reform on a landing in the middle of a trimmed lawn and garden. The landing is perfectly situated to offer an intimidating view of a white stone mansion. At three levels high, the structure looms overhead like some ancient beast waiting to devour newcomers; its limbs are the wings that sprawl to either side, curling around the property's edges to contain the grounds and, it seems, anything that might think to escape. Grandiose, one would call it. Comprised of winding staircases, intricately carved balustrades, and deep, echoing halls, to the Aurelians this building is the perfect representation of their power. It is also the family seat of the oldest blood lineage from Aurelis: ancestors who, for some undisclosed reason, abandoned their planet nearly a thousand years ago to live on one of their moons.

Always impressed by homes that he couldn't imagine wanting to live in, Leonard whistles.

"Something, isn't it?" Jim says, striding forward to the edge of the landing.

"You've been here before?"

"A long time ago," his friend replies before pausing. "Maybe not that long when I think about it, but still it feels like my twenties are far behind me."

"Cry me a river," Leonard says sarcastically. "I don't even remember my twenties."

"I do not understand this habit of humans to 'feel old'."

"Can it, hobgoblin. You're the youngest of us all. I have no sympathy for you."

"I am not interested in your sympathy, Doctor."

"You're still not getting it."

Spock releases the faintest huff of breath through his nose.

For some reason, Jim smiles. "Bones, you're the only one I know who can make Spock sigh like a human."

Spock half-turns toward Kirk as if he cannot believe his friend would insult him so.

Leonard drawls, "Why, thank you, Captain. That's a lovely compliment!"

"Gentlemen," Spock says, part in disbelief, part in warning.

Jim's deliberate cough does nothing to hide his amusement. The man takes the lead, heading for the nearest set of stairs. Leonard locks his hands behind his back and happily follows along on his friend's heels.

Spock trails farther behind, no doubt questioning the logic that led him to accept an invitation to a party alongside the two most troublesome humans he knows.

* * *

Normally Leonard is excellent at sticking to Jim's side like a burr, but at the Gala Jim does something strange right from the beginning. He leads Leonard and Spock straight to the nearest granite-faced waiter inside the ballroom. From the waiter's tray, he plucks two glasses filled with pinkish champagne and hands them to Leonard and Spock. Then he squeezes their respective shoulders, smiles, and says, "Enjoy!"

At first Leonard is too startled to react. When his brain finally cottons on to the abandonment, he scuttles after Kirk with the cry "Jim! Wait a minute!" but, slippery as an eel, the other man has disappeared into the crowd.

Out of frustration, the doctor downs his drink in a single swallow then helps himself to Spock's glass too. To the unconcerned Vulcan, he accuses, "This is your fault."

"Since I am not forcing you to drink in excess, I should bear no blame for your unfortunate habit."

Leonard rounds on Spock, sputtering, "W-Why, you..."

Spock blinks placidly at him.

"Never mind," Leonard snaps. "That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"As you did not take the time to clarify your meaning, Dr. McCoy, I was free to interpret it."

"For Christ's sake, would you stop sassin' me!" Leonard points in the direction he last saw Jim. "Our captain has run away!"

Spock folds his hands behind his back. "Did he? I assume he had somewhere to go and no desire to take us along."

"Exactly!"

Spock studies him. "Why are you so distraught?"

Leonard doesn't answer right away, pressing his lips together until they form a thin line. When he does speak, he admits, albeit reluctantly, "You might be right. I'm overreacting." The doctor swallows hard. "Jim will come back?"

That last remark is more of a hopeful question than a statement of fact.

Spock answers softly, "If he does not, we shall locate him."

Leonard's shoulders slump in relief. "Good," he says, then repeats more strongly, "Good." He looks at the two empty glasses in his hands, noticing they are made of Dinarian crystal. Obviously no expense was spared for this party. "Sorry I stole yours."

"You were welcome to it."

"Okay." He runs his tongue along his bottom lip. "It's lightweight stuff anyway. C'mon," he adds with a bob of his head toward the other side of the ballroom, "let's find something stronger."

"As you wish, Dr. McCoy."

Spock dutifully follows Leonard in search of the open bar, the both of them keeping a close lookout during this trek for their errant third. However, Jim is simply nowhere to be seen.

* * *

The bar is a disappointment, offering a multitude of wines and more champagne but nothing of the hard liquor variety.

While Leonard is mulling over which wine to choose, next to his elbow someone leans on the bar counter and says, "Disappointing, isn't it?"

"Exactly what I was thinking," Leonard replies glumly. "I don't much care for wine."

"Unfortunately, Aurelians love the stuff. There's a greenhouse-vineyard on the other side of the Dome." The man eyes Leonard's uniform.

Leonard offers his hand in greeting. "Leonard McCoy," he says congenially.

"Starfleet," his neighbor guesses, shaking his hand. "Interesting to see you here." Then he smiles. "Mark Connors. I'm in... wine trade."

Leonard returns the smile. "I bet you get invited to all the fun parties."

Mark winks. "Sometimes. What about you? Did Starfleet let you off the leash for the evening?"

The doctor shrugs. "More like my captain. I'm just along for the ride."

"Ah." The man turns to survey the ballroom. "And your captain is...?"

"James T. Kirk."

A strange emotion passes through Connors' eyes. "...Kirk?"

Suddenly feeling wary, Leonard catches the gaze of Spock, who is waiting at the other end of the bar where it is less crowded. He inclines his head in a subtle _come here_.

But Mark's friendliness has returned. He says, "I see some of the staff trying to get my attention. Business waits for no one. It was nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. McCoy—and try the house wine. You won't be as disappointed as you think."

"Thanks."

They shake hands again.

Spock arrives after Connors has left.

"Fascinating," Leonard says.

"What is, Doctor?"

Leonard shrugs slightly. "Looks like there are still some places in the galaxy where Starfleet is the red-headed stepchild." When Spock doesn't reply, Leonard studies at him. "Something wrong, Spock?"

"Negative."

The guarded look in the Vulcan's eyes surprises Leonard, but he decides not to press further. Instead he says, "How do you feel about wine?"

"I can drink it."

"I didn't ask if you could. Do you like it?"

"I have no preference."

Leonard rolls his eyes heavenward. "God forbid I get a straight answer out of a Vulcan. All right, I'm making an executive decision. Let's skip the booze for now."

"Excellent suggestion, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard snorts and purposely pokes Spock with his elbow as he slips past. "You don't have to sound so thrilled about it. Do you want to mingle or look for Jim?"

"Perhaps we would be best-served to attempt both at the same time."

"I like the way you think."

Spock offers a dry comeback, and Leonard gladly counters it. In this fashion, they make their way to a group of officials who look somewhat familiar to Leonard but whose names he cannot remember. Luckily, he has a partner at his side with a computer for a brain.

The Gala has begun in earnest.

* * *

"I must be in terrible form tonight," Leonard admits to no one in particular, as there is no one to admit this to. Truth be told, he has just lost a Vulcan in addition to a captain.

The more the doctor thinks about it, the more convinced he is that it should be damned _difficult_ to lose Spock—especially when said Vulcan expresses the belief that Leonard should not be left to his own devices. He had assumed Spock meant to stay with him all evening, and he had gladly planned to do the same. After all, it makes Leonard feel good to protect his friends, especially given that he considers it to be one of the only ways he can protect them. He's not cunning like Jim or super-strong like Spock, but it is a well-known fact that he is a hell of a flirt.

Maybe that's why Spock escaped when he had the chance. Could he tell Leonard was getting bored enough to ask him to waltz?

_Does Spock even dance?_ the man muses, watching a couple go by arm-in-arm. He isn't certain he has ever seen the Vulcan dance, but he would bet a month's salary that Spock's mother, Amanda Grayson, has shown her son one or two of the popular Terran dances. He would also bet another month's salary Sarek had been lured into those lessons.

The thought of a stiff-necked father and son being herded around by one determined human woman makes Leonard chuckle.

The people standing nearby give him odd looks but don't dare invite him into their circle, lest they catch whatever awkwardness keeps him isolated from the rest of the party. Leonard decides he doesn't want to be gawked at and moves closer to an open balcony. There, he jerks at his collar for the umpteenth time. Although the air within the Dome is temperature-controlled and it feels like a spring day, he misses the lack of breeze.

For a moment, while Leonard is people-watching, the crowd parts to reveal the opposite side of the dance floor and two familiar figures. Leonard starts forward immediately, only to come to a standstill when he sees the kind of company that Spock and Jim are keeping. The female in the floor-length, azure gown is Aurelis' Governor. On her arm is her husband, smaller in person than the holovids portray him to be but not any less intimidating. Leonard knows enough about the temperament of Aurelians to recognize that if he invites himself into that conversation, he will offend his hosts. They won't think twice about turning him into the social pariah of the party.

He slinks backwards.

Besides, he rationalizes to himself, the Governor looks more imposing than T'Pau, the matriarch of Spock's clan—and T'Pau made him feel like an ant about to be stepped on by a giant boot.

He slips out onto the balcony to find a quiet corner to relax in for the time being. The view of the grounds from the second story is gorgeous, if one discounts the hired security in plain, inconspicuous black intermittently standing guard about the premises. He wonders if, given the number of guards, the Aurelians are paranoid about some enemy or other crashing their festivities.

"_Doctor_."

Startled, Leonard shifts away from his corner—only to press himself back into it as a touch of alarm slides down his spine, followed by an instinct to stay hidden. Two figures come into view, moving to the opposite end of the balcony. One is an Aurelian male (a high-ranking officer, concludes Leonard from the insignia on the humanoid's lapel) and the other is Terran.

The light from the twin moon hits against the side of the human's face. Leonard recognizes instantly as Mark Connors, the wine trader.

"Doctor," the Aurelian says in menacing Standard, "my patience wears thin. I thought I had already shown you what can happen when I no longer feel patient."

"Another day—I need one more day. There was a delay with—"

The Aurelian moves too quickly for Leonard to track, bending Connors backwards against the balcony railing until his legs dangle off the ground. The man gasps, at the mercy of the hand around his neck.

_My god_, Leonard thinks, _he's going to throw him over!_

The Aurelian hisses, "I don't want excuses. I want what we were promised!"

"Y-Yes, of c-course," stutters Connors. "T-Tomorrow! I swear—the ship—no, _don't!_"

The Aurelian steps back and sends the frightened man rolling away across the balcony floor like a discarded puppet. Connors stumbles to his knees, then to his feet before he levers himself upright by using the far wall.

Leonard moves without thinking. The trader's head jerks up, turns in Leonard's direction. Despite the darkness, their eyes meet.

The Aurelian seems to have lost his tolerance for conversation. He strides to the archway separating the balcony and ballroom and pauses there to deliver one last threat: "Tomorrow. Or you'll wish I had let you fall."

Then he is gone.

Leonard hurries to the one left behind, hands instinctively reaching for a medical tricorder at his waist that isn't there. "Are you all right?" he asks.

Mark says nothing, merely presses a hand to his stomach as if it pains him.

"What was that about?"

The man moves away like a skittish animal when Leonard tries to touch him, smoothing the creases in his clothes with shaking hands. "You're lucky he didn't see you," he says, voice tense, "or you'd be in a worse spot than me."

"Here, sit down," Leonard says, trying to approach him again. "I let me look you over. I'm a doctor."

The offer of assistance is declined. "Forget what you saw," Leonard is advised. "What you heard—and that you ever met me."

"I can't," Leonard replies stubbornly. "Listen, I don't know what's going on here but I want to help."

"I promise you that if you try, you'll end up dead."

With that flat, unfriendly remark, the man leaves Leonard standing by himself on the balcony, brain firing off a dozen questions per second.

What is really going on beneath the calm surface of the Aurelis Moon Gala?

* * *

Disturbed by the scene on the balcony, Leonard has never felt so unhappy to be on his own. At the very least, he wants to share the tale of the encounter with someone. Then he wants to investigate, as in his mind that obviously would have to come next.

His search for his friends is waylaid by a pretty lady with a determination to block his path. Her opening line is "Oh, hello. Aren't you handsome!"

Leonard cannot help but stop to give her his attention. While he knows he is rather plain in looks, it never hurts to hear otherwise.

"Thank you, ma'am," he drawls. "You're lovelier—much too lovely to be talking to the likes of me."

She laughs merrily, sidles closer to brush her fingers across the front of his blue uniform. "Do you like to dance?"

"Sure, who doesn't?"

"Then, if I'm as lovely as you say, why haven't you asked me to dance?"

"I had no idea you wanted me to."

"Oh, Captain! You're funny too!"

Leonard's eyebrows fly upward. "Captain?"

"I heard you were attending the Gala, and I just _had_ to meet you." She bats her eyelashes at him. "You are far handsomer than my friends said you were."

Leonard really hates to ruin her fantasy (not to mention his moment of admiration) but if he doesn't say something soon, he will start laughing.

"I'm sorry, my lady," he apologizes as delicately as he can, "you seem to be mistaken. I'm a doctor, not a captain. Dr. Leonard McCoy."

She blinks—and withdraws her hand from his person. "Oh... Dr. McCoy?"

"Yes." He casts a look around them. "But perhaps I can help you locate the man you've mistaken me for."

"That... will not be necessary." She titters a little but the laughter isn't genuine. "I'm so embarrassed! Forgive me for disturbing you, Doctor."

"No problem," he says but she is already moving away as quickly as she can and likely hasn't heard him. "Oh well," he tells himself, "you can't win them all, Leonard."

He hopes she finds that 'Captain' she is looking for, especially since he has a good idea of who her quarry must be. At this point, Jim deserves the trouble.

* * *

"Spock!"

"Ah, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard stalks up to the Vulcan and jabs a finger in his chest. "Where the heck did you run off to, you pointy-eared nuisance! I've had a time trying to locate you!"

"Did I not mention that I had a need to use the facilities?"

"You certainly didn't!" But Leonard steps back to give Spock more breathing room. "I saw you with Jim earlier."

"We crossed paths."

"And now you've un-crossed them?" Leonard huffs and doesn't give his companion time to answer. "I knew it. He's avoiding me." A few seconds later, he cuts his eyes at the Vulcan. "Well, aren't you going to say that's an illogical assumption?"

Spock neatly sidesteps the question. "I have no data on which to base an opinion."

The doctor crosses his arms. "Now you're just making me more suspicious."

"I noticed you had company a moment ago. It would be proper to introduce me."

Leonard blinks and looks back over his shoulder. "Oh, her? My admirer thought I was Jim. When she realized her mistake, she took off like someone had lit her underpants on fire. I can only imagine what Jim is having to deal with right now. But speaking of admirers and the like, I didn't rush over here just to berate you, Spock."

"Shocking."

Leonard ignores that dry remark and points across the ballroom. "See those ladies by the punch bowl?"

"Indeed."

"They're making cow eyes at you for a reason. I overheard them a minute ago. Somehow they have figured out you're the son of an ambassador. You're in trouble." Leonard takes a hold of Spock's elbow. "Let's find a nice corner somewhere. If you stand still enough, maybe you'll be mistaken for a creepy life-like statue."

"Doctor, I thought I was here to observe."

"You can observe from behind that potted plant. Ever heard of the phrase 'out of sight, out of mind'?"

"No," Spock quips, "but you seem determined to employ its literal meaning."

"Make wisecracks all you want, hobgoblin, but you'll thank me later for saving you from a boring marriage."

"I do not recall expressing a desire to marry, Dr. McCoy."

"Good," Leonard says firmly.

"But I would like to know why you have taken a keen interest in my marital status."

Leonard stops, purses his mouth. "Can't you just say thanks?"

"For what?" the Vulcan counters lightly.

Leonard releases Spock to express his exasperation with a wild motion of his hands. "I don't know why I bother!"

"Precisely—that is why I am curious."

They study one another. The stalemate is broken by the approach of an Aurelian female in a wispy gown and with a coif of hair that, by the laws of physics, should not be able to remain vertical at that height.

"Spock of Vulcan," she purrs, "I would like to make your acquaintance."

Spock inclines his head slightly but says, "I regret that I am unavailable to do so at this time." Then he folds his hands behind his back and peers down at his human companion. "I believe you were escorting me to a corner, Dr. McCoy?"

The female makes a tiny shocked noise.

Leonard's blue eyes twinkle merrily as he replies, "It'd be my pleasure, Mr. Spock."

Away from the female they go, in charity with one another.

* * *

Fortune favors Leonard after he tucks Spock away in an excellent hiding spot, promising Spock he would return with their captain and an interesting tale both men needed to hear. Jim appears alongside the h'ordeuvres table. Although not alone, his company is someone less prominent than the governor of Aurelis, so Leonard seizes the opportunity.

"Excuse me," he says politely to the people he pushes in front in order to get to Kirk.

"Jim! Where have you been?" Leonard demands, latching onto the sleeve of the man's gold uniform. Haha! Let Jim try to escape him this time!

He might have said that bit out loud because his friend sounds partly fond and partly annoyed when he calls Leonard, "Bones."

Jim pries Leonard's fingers off his arm. "Why aren't you with Spock?"

"Bah, that stick in the mud doesn't even know how to dance!"

"I have it on good authority that he does," comes Jim's reply. "If he says no, trick him into it."

"You trick him into it," Leonard retorts. "You owe me for dumping Spock on me anyway."

A humanoid in a shimmering black tunic with a stylized serpent in bold blue and vivid scarlet embroidered across the breast pocket steps forward with a look of affront. His Standard is heavily accented. "Excuse me, Captain Kirk, but who is this person?"

Leonard starts to introduce himself but before he can finish, Jim places a hand on Leonard's lower back and smiles charmingly at his guests.

"Sir Amun, I apologize for the interruption. He's an old friend."

The hand on Leonard's back begins to gently push him aside. Leonard doesn't resist at first, not until he realizes Jim has no real intention of introducing him properly and is instead trying to force him to leave. He is shocked enough by this that, when Spock suddenly appears at his elbow and takes over for Jim, guiding Leonard away, he allows himself to be led without a word. But once out of earshot of Kirk, Leonard comes to his senses and digs in his heels.

"What's going on, Spock?"

"Doctor..."

"Don't you dare lie to me!"

"I would not." Spock watches him closely. "However, I have agreed not to reveal anything to you unless Jim is present."

Leonard's stomach sinks. "What do you mean? Reveal what?"

True to his word Spock says nothing, and no matter how Leonard pushes at him, the Vulcan remains stubbornly close-mouthed on the subject. He only points out that Jim is likely to join them in short order to provide answers.

Upon hearing that, Leonard is angry enough to tell Spock to hit the metaphorical highway. "Come find me when you can be useful, Mr. Spock!"

The irate doctor is working on his second glass of the house wine when Jim and Spock arrive at the bar.

Jim greets him too easily for a man who should know how upset his friend is and accepts a glass of champagne from the bartender. "I haven't tried this yet. Is it good?" he asks, no doubt trying to ease the tension between them.

Leonard debates for a brief second on whether or not to hold his tongue but determines holding back is simply not his style. "What's the meaning of all this, Jim?"

Jim takes a sip of the champagne. "Of what?"

"You practically kicking me to the curb. Spock acting like there is some big secret that'll end the world if he divulges it."

"Don't be so dramatic."

Leonard's nostrils flare. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Spock edge closer as if the Vulcan expects he might need to intervene before their argument turns physical.

"I have a right to know, Jim."

Jim makes a _come with me_ gesture to both officers. Somehow they end up next to the same potted plant Leonard had warned Spock to stay behind earlier on.

Leonard folds his arms across his chest. "Tell me."

"You said it yourself last week, Bones. The Aurelians are always looking to improve their political standing. Word came to Starfleet that they are about to make a deal—but not with the Federation."

Leonard's arms slowly unfold. "What?"

Jim's smile has no humor behind it. "The Romulans want them, and if _they_ get a toe-hold this far in..."

"That's impossible!"

"Clearly not, Doctor," Spock interjects. "If the Romulan Empire establishes a presence in this sector, the Federation cannot deny them an access route unless we are willing to risk a war."

"My god," Leonard says, rubbing a hand against his forehead. "Why can't they just stick to fighting us over the outposts?"

Kirk squeezes his shoulder in silent agreement. "Supposedly there is going to be an exchange in the next few days. Starfleet needs to find out what's rumor and what isn't, and to make an offer to the Aurelians if necessary."

It takes a second for that to sink in. "We're not really here as poster children for the 'Fleet, are we? This is an intelligence mission."

"Not officially," Spock is quick to clarify.

"Unofficially, then." Leonard's gaze challenges Jim's. "And you couldn't tell me why?"

"Bones."

His temper returns. "Answer the damn question!"

A muscle in his friend's jaw twitches, a sign that Jim is holding back his own temper. The man's reply is clipped. "Lower your voice, McCoy."

Leonard doesn't deign to respond to that.

Kirk looks away, momentarily. "There are some who have reason to be suspicious of us attending the Gala. Of the three of us, I thought at least one needed to be... convincing. To give the appearance that our presence here is out of goodwill, nothing more."

"The most convincing man is the one who doesn't know anything," Leonard states flatly. "In other words, I'm the dupe."

"No. You're a part of this team," his friend insists, suddenly looking like he wants to shake Leonard into understanding.

"Can't be part of team if you don't know you're playing, Jim." Leonard steps back, voice rough because his throat feels constricted. "Normally I would be surprised, but this is not the first time you've decided I'm better off with my head buried in the sand."

"Bones, let it go. This isn't about you."

The tightness in Leonard's throat solidifies into a lump. He cannot swallow around it. Dumping his unfinished wine into the plant holder, he turns to leave.

"Bones?" Jim questions, his tone softening.

Leonard lifts a hand in a gesture of _stop_ when his friend starts forward, and then his arm drops limply back to his side altogether. His shoulders lower of their own accord.

Moving to the nearest exit, he works at his collar but his hands are unsteady enough that it takes him longer than usual to undo the tiny clasps. Loosening the thing doesn't alleviate his feeling of suffocation.

When Leonard hits an outer hallway, he thinks a bit desperately, _Where the hell do I have to go to get off this blasted moon?_

All-at-once, his eyes are wet. Coming to a standstill in the center of the great hall, he closes them and draws in several deep breaths.

The scrape of shoe on stone behind him echoes loudly in the stillness. Leonard opens his eyes and turns around.

The person behind him is someone entirely unexpected—and unwelcome.

Leonard watches the Aurelian with caution. He gives no indication that he recognizes him.

"_Doctor._"

The single word is an accusation, accompanied by disgust. It sounds no different than when the Aurelian had used the title to address his earlier victim, Mark Connors.

In the lighting of the hall, Leonard has a chance to look the fellow over: his face is long and thin, pointed at the chin like most Aurelians; a mass of silver hair is pulled back into a thick braid behind his shoulders. Aurelians never cut their hair, so the braid reaches his waist. His clothing is opulent, the kind of material that befits the wealthier class, but somehow the image of his affluence only serves to make his thin face look sallow.

Or maybe, Leonard decides, that's just the effect of the Aurelian's ugly expression.

The doctor smiles amiably and offers a polite greeting. He moves aside as a person does when unintentionally blocking another person's path (despite the extraordinary width of the hallway).

But the Aurelian approaches Leonard instead of walking past him. "Doctor," he says again, then more pointedly, "Dr. Leonard McCoy."

In that moment, Leonard's bad feeling has nothing to do with Jim or Spock. "Do I know you?"

"Did you tell your captain?"

"Excuse me?"

The Aurelian comes closer still, until he is nearly looming over Leonard. He hisses, "_Filthy little eavesdropper_. You ran straight to him, didn't you?"

Well, concludes Leonard, this is not going to end pleasantly at all. "I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you've mistaken me for someone else. It happens."

"Oh, I doubt that." The Aurelian makes a sharp motion with his hand.

A person enters the hall, or rather someone who has been in hiding nearby makes himself known. The newcomer is not Aurelian and very, very goon-like. Years of surviving missions gone awry have taught Leonard when to recognize a goon.

Anyone else might have lifted his hands in a gesture of placation and continued to bleat about his innocence, but Leonard doesn't bother. He looks his enemy in the eyes and says, "You're making a big mistake."

The Aurelian steps aside to give the goon better access to the target.

"A big mistake," Leonard says again, heart giving a lurch when he spies the arrival of someone who couldn't have better timing. "Spock, over here!"

The goon suddenly disappears, melting back into a shadow. The Aurelian waits a moment longer, looking very angry to have his plans thwarted, before he hurries off in a different direction.

"Doctor," Spock begins.

"No time for that," Leonard interjects. "I think you just interrupted a kidnapping."

Spock stops walking. "Whose?"

Leonard's smile is not at all amused. "Mine," he answers grimly.


	3. Part Two

**Part Two**

Leonard watches his captain pace the length of the balcony. "If you say 'why didn't you tell me sooner, Bones', I'm going to restrict your meal card to spinach leaves and protein cubes for the next six months."

Jim slants a glance at him. "I won't say it."

"Good," responds the doctor. To Spock, he asks, "Can we get a hold of the guest list? I want to know who, exactly, has it out for me."

Kirk executes a sharp turnabout. His "I want to know that too" sounds a lot more menacing than it should.

Leonard lifts a hand and, as if drawn by an invisible thread, Kirk drifts closer to him. Earnest, he says, "Let's not go roaring in without a solid plan," and looks between his two friends. "We also should strive to be objective as we can."

"I could not agree more, Dr. McCoy," remarks Spock.

Jim's mouth presses into a thin line. "I am as objective as I can be."

"Sure you are." _In a pig's eye,_ he adds silently. "It's just that I know you, Jim. You have a tendency to turn into a protective mama bear when you think one of your cubs is being threatened."

That remark has the intended effect: a smile ghosts his friend's face.

"I don't know..." comes Jim's answer. "You seem more mama-bearish to me."

Leonard sniffs. "I'm a papa bear."

Their third companion clears his throat. "As interesting as I find this change to the conversation, I suggest we focus on the task at hand while we have the time."

Blue eyes sparkling with mischief, Leonard stage-whispers to Jim, "I think Spock's afraid to admit that he is the baby bear in our analogy."

"Bones," is Kirk's amused warning, "enough. Spock's right. This place is not secure. We could be interrupted at any moment."

While Leonard concedes that truth with a nod, he cannot help one last dig. "I'd say you side with the hobgoblin too much, but we both know you need me for my _illogical_ insights."

At the same time, Jim's expression softens and fills with regret. "I do need you, Bones—which is why I want you to beam back to the ship."

Leonard snaps upright. "Absolutely not!"

"I must agree with the Captain."

"No one asked for your opinion, Mr. Spock!" Leonard bites back. "Jim, you wanted me here for a reason, even if it turned out to be different than what I thought that reason was. I'll be _damned_ if I walk away now."

"This risk to you just tripled, Bones, the very opposite of what I wanted. I can't in good conscience let you stay."

"You're not sending me back." Leonard widens his stance and crosses his arms in a show of stubbornness.

"Spock," Jim murmurs, gaze still fixed on McCoy.

Spock removes his communicator from his belt and flips it open.

Leonard has a moment to think up a counterattack, which prompts his lunge for the traitorous Vulcan and the evil device, but Jim anticipates the reaction and steps between them, grabbing onto Leonard's shoulders.

The man makes a plea. "Don't fight me on this."

Leonard levels his fiercest glare at his friend (a look renowned for making lesser men cower) but it seems to have no effect. Over Jim's shoulder, he sees Spock twisting the frequency dial on the communicator.

"Jim," he warns, "don't do this. I'm no good to you from the ship."

The grip on his shoulders tightens. "Try to understand. I need you safe."

But Leonard doesn't want to understand. "Then you'll have to make it an order, Captain."

Jim calls the bluff. "I order you to return to the Enterprise."

Leonard slumps under Jim's hands.

Jim releases him with a quiet "Sorry, Bones."

"Captain," Spock's interruption has both men swinging their heads around to look at him, "I fear Dr. McCoy may have no choice but to remain on the surface. It appears that our communication channel has been blocked."

"What?" Jim strides to Spock, taking out his own communicator. "How?"

"'By who?' might be a more appropriate question," Leonard says, joining them. "Do we have any way to trace the interference, Spock?"

"Negative, Doctor."

Jim's hand holding the communicator drops to his side, accompanied by a heartfelt "_Damn._"

Leonard can't offer his sympathy because, for once, he is thankful the Enterprise cannot be reached. However, he does touch Jim's shoulder. "Let's talk about that plan," he offers.

Expression grim, Kirk replies, "First, debrief me again on everything you heard between our mystery Aurelian and the wine trader."

Leonard does not hesitate to oblige him.

* * *

The confidence to handle a tenuous situation grows between the three men but an unspoken tension remains subdued within all of them. Wishing something could be said to put his friends' minds at ease, Leonard notes the way Spock watches Kirk, and Kirk watches him, no doubt still trying to determine some way to convince Leonard to stay out of harm's way.

Leonard truly has no intention of caving to the man's wishes. It aggravates him that, in comparison to Spock, he is seen as the fragile one. How much danger and heartache have the three of them survived over the years? How much more must he endure to prove that he is their equal in the field? That he is capable like they are of handling a critical mission?

It comes down to trust, Leonard supposes. Kirk trusts him just slightly less than he trusts Spock.

That thought is enough to make him miserable, and so he discards it for the time being. Spock is correct in that his emotions do weaken him when they are too strong—and come what may, Leonard is determined not to be weak this time.

Jim returns from whatever private thoughts have kept him silent for the past few minutes and looks to Spock and McCoy. "The Governor will be looking for me."

Leaning against the balcony railing with legs crossed at the ankle and his arms secured over his chest, Leonard feels out Kirk's mood by inquiring lightly, "Why? Did you charm her?"

Jim's expression turns strange. "Hardly, Bones. She thinks I have an ulterior motive for attending her party."

"You do have an ulterior motive, Captain," Spock points out.

Leonard presses, "So you're saying you didn't try to charm her?"

Finally, the man's mouth twitches. "Certainly my objective isn't to make an enemy out of her."

"He tried," Leonard translates for Spock, "and failed. I think we just entered a new era."

"Indeed. Perhaps the Captain has—as you have often remarked, Doctor—lost his touch."

Leonard's own mood improves, and he snickers, adding, "Maybe quite literally."

Jim steps between them as if that might actually stop his friends from teaming up against him. "All right, you two. Let's save the mischief for the ship."

"We don't know what you're talking about, Jim. Spock and I always strive to be very professional."

"I would agree with this statement except that I doubt Dr. McCoy's definition of professional behavior coincides with mine. Furthermore, the statement simply fails to apply in his case."

Leonard levels an accusing finger at Spock. "You traitor! Stop playing sides."

A playful glint comes into the Vulcan's eyes. "One must earn loyalty, Doctor."

"What you're going to earn is one very unpleasant physical examination, Mr. Spock!"

Jim sighs, a small huff of breath bearing more amusement than exasperation. He raises his hands with the declaration, "Enough. Spock, when we go out there, stay with McCoy. That's an order."

"Yes, Captain."

"Bones, try not to find trouble."

"I think you have me mixed up with yourself, Jim. I don't go looking for trouble. _You do._"

"And you can fuss at me for that to your heart's content once this mission is done." Jim gives the doctor a sharp look. "Agreed?"

Leonard leaves his audience in suspense for a moment by pretending to consider his options. "...Fine, agreed."

Jim nods once and moves toward the archway of the balcony. Leonard catches him, though, by laying a hand on his upper arm.

"Be careful," he says, not fond of the idea of splitting up but understanding why it's necessary.

One of Jim's hands briefly covers Leonard's, acknowledging the concern with a comforting squeeze. Then Jim walks into the ballroom and, much as he had at the beginning of the evening, disappears from sight.

Leonard sighs softly. "If I had a way to turn off my worry, I would. That man takes years off my life." He adds without looking at the Vulcan, "I know you worry about him too. What are we going to do, Spock?"

"Stay the present course, Doctor, until either we reach an end or the end reaches us."

"Ain't that the truth," mutters the man. He steps through the archway, Spock by his side.

* * *

Hands hidden behind his back, Leonard rocks from his heels to the balls of his feet while he watches a second group of lithely built Aurelians bombard the dance floor. Leonard read somewhere that dancing is one of the most common pastimes on Aurelis, and without a doubt he believes it.

In trying to remain inconspicuous, he and Spock have returned to the potted plant. From there, they continually survey their surroundings for any suspicious-looking parties.

Admittedly, Leonard is bored. He nudges his partner with his elbow. "What if we move closer to Jim's group?"

"Negative."

"What if we go back to the bar?"

"Negative."

Leonard purses his mouth. "What if I asked you to dance?"

"Nega—" Spock stops, turns to look at him. "I assumed you did not dance."

The doctor grasps his chest in exaggerated shock. "I'm a Southerner! 'Course I can dance. Probably better than you."

"I highly doubt that. As the son of a well-respected ambassador, I was required to learn over thirty distinctive dances. There was some expectation that when I was old enough, I would attend the occasional conference or social event in the company of my father and mother."

Leonard clicks his mouth shut. "T-Thirty, did you say?"

"Thirty-four and a half, to be precise. The half of a dance refers to an aboriginal fire show which, according to the clans of the Capellans who still practice it, does not take place at social gatherings but rather during individual quests as a rite of passage for male youths to become warriors."

Leonard stares at the Vulcan.

"Doctor, do you wish to say something? Your mouth has opened again."

Leonard makes a sputtering noise and stalks to the opposite side of the plant. "Go away," he says when Spock follows him. "I'm embarrassed that I even considered asking you."

"Will this preclude you asking in the future?"

Leonard doesn't know how to answer that, so he points to the second level of the ballroom. "Let's go up there for a better view."

"As you wish."

By the time they have climbed the winding staircase to the second story, Leonard has rationalized the nervous butterflies in his stomach. He leans against the balustrade and scans the crowded ballroom more easily than before. When a person he recognizes crosses the floor, he wonders, "Do you think Jim will succeed?"

"We can hope so."

"But what if he's wrong?"

"Doctor, do you take delight in pointing out the flaws of every scenario?"

"Do you?" retorts the human. "Whenever I say some—_Spock, look_."

Nearby, two Aurelian females shoot Leonard a dirty look at the loud exclamation before returning to their conversation. A male, of a race Leonard hasn't encountered before, stares at them with interest.

Both Spock and McCoy lean forward slightly as Mark Connors slips into the ballroom from a side entrance near the bar. They track his progress as he hunts through the people down below, and Leonard whispers "_Gotcha_" when the man finds the person he is searching for. Hoping the band music conceals his conversation with Spock, he asks, "How's he involved with the Governor's husband?"

"At this point, we can only guess."

"Well, I doubt it's to do with wine. How many wine traders do you know have a doctorate?"

"I know of no wine traders."

"Look, he's leaving!" Leonard moves toward the stairs with a hurried "Let's follow him."

Suddenly Spock is blocking the staircase. "I must protest. This is not part of the plan."

"Good thing about plans, Spock, is that we can change them as we need to."

"And who will inform the Captain?"

"You," Leonard counters. "Now move aside."

Surprisingly, Spock does move but he is only one step behind Leonard when they reach the lower level. Leonard heads to a double archway decorated with flowering vines. He ducks through the left one. The hall beyond the archway splits into three directions.

Leonard muses, "Now which way did he go?"

"The left corridor leads to the left wing; similarly with the right. Straight ahead, we would find ourselves entering the gardens."

"When did you memorize the layout?"

"On the ship, Doctor."

"Oh, of course. Because _you_ knew this was a mission." Leonard harrumphs. "I have a bone to pick with you about that... later."

"Provide me with the time and place and I will adjust my schedule so that you might freely express your discontent at your leisure."

"It's a date, then." Leonard starts down the corridor that Spock claims leads to the outside. "If I wanted to engage in clandestine activities, I would pick the least guarded spot."

"That seems logical. It was noted in the invitation that the gardens would be open to the public for the duration of the event."

After a minute of walking, they come to the end of the corridor and stand at the top of a landing that overlooks an empty courtyard. There are several openings to the gardens along the low stone wall that fences in the courtyard.

Leonard eyes the tall, thick hedges behind the wall and remarks, "I hope you memorized the maze too." When no response comes, he turns to Spock in slight alarm. "Wait, didn't you?"

Spock stares in consternation at the hedges. "The maze yields no opening to the transporter landing, Doctor. I... did not consider it logical as an escape route."

_Oh well,_ Leonard thinks to himself since he doesn't want Spock to feel bad. He starts down the steps.

Spock catches his arm. "Wait."

"What?"

"It is illogical to proceed if we cannot navigate the structure. The risk is too great." Spock indicates an upper window with a tilt of his head. "From that vantage point, I can study the pathways."

"We don't have that kind of time, Spock."

"I estimate that it would take me no longer than two minutes."

"But we don't know how to get up to that room, let alone who might be guarding it." Leonard shakes off the Vulcan's hand. "My cousins and I went to the County Fair Corn Maze every fall up until I was sixteen. I've almost got a sixth sense when it comes to finding my way out of these things."

"Forgive me, but I find no comfort in your experience as a child playing in a farmer's field. This maze was carefully designed to look like the Imperial Seal of Aurelis from space."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Negative. I am attempting to curb your impatience before it places us in a difficult position."

Leonard takes a moment to control his temper. "How about this? I go ahead into the maze while _you _memorize it. Then you can find me easily enough."

Spock's voice changes in tone, all at once smoother and chillier. "We must stay together. "

"Why? Because our captain said so? I know you worship the ground he walks on, Spock, but Jim doesn't always get it right."

"No matter how you seek to antagonize me, I will not be convinced to disobey a direct order."

Leonard says nothing for a few seconds. Then, "That's your problem, Mr. Spock. You _are_ loyal." He turns away. "Just not to me."

A moment later, he walks down the steps. He offers no comment when the Vulcan chooses to follow him into the maze.

* * *

Half an hour and one soothed temper later, Leonard tugs on the back of Spock's formal tunic to plead, "Can we rest a minute, please? These boots are murdering my feet."

Spock stops and peruses Leonard's boots. "Did you order the incorrect size?"

"No."

"Is the arch support insufficient?"

"No."

"Then I see no reason for your complaint, Dr. McCoy. We have walked less than two-thirds of a mile."

"Are you counting the fact that I have been on my feet all evening?"

The Vulcan blinks, then concedes, "I suppose we could return to the bench."

Leonard huffs but the sound is amused. "If you'll recall, that bench was occupied." He glances at the tips of Spock's ears, now returned to their normal color, and teases, "I've never seen you so flustered before, Spock."

"Some... activities should be performed in private."

"I think that couple assumed they _did_ have some privacy."

"Doctor, I would argue that we are on public grounds but I do not see the point to this conversation and have no desire to encourage it further."

"Well aren't you a killjoy?" grumps the doctor. He hobbles closer to his companion. "Stand still for a minute. I'm gonna rest."

Spock looks like he is going to question how Leonard plans to go about doing that but quickly closes his mouth when the human leans against him. The Vulcan locks his hands behind his back and, as Leonard requested, stands very still.

A few minutes later, Leonard sighs and claims to feel better. "I guess we can start the search again... Spock?"

Spock's head remains turned in a different direction. "If you would, be silent a moment longer, Doctor."

He thinks he understands what Spock is about, so he obeys. Straining to catch any sound, Leonard also listens but even after a minute of complete silence, he can hear nothing except their breathing. He whispers, "What is your super Vulcan hearing telling you?"

"There are two individuals up ahead... arguing."

Spock starts forward, Leonard not far behind him. When they come to an impenetrable wall of hedges, Spock cocks his head, paces to one side of it and stops.

"They are... on the other side. Approximately here."

"Is it Connors?"

"You are familiar with his voice, Dr. McCoy, not I."

"We have to find a way around."

"Come," says the Vulcan. They follow the curve of the hedge wall until Spock stills and says, "No, we must go back." They then turn around and follow the hedge wall in the opposite direction.

Leonard isn't concerned with how Spock is leading them, whether by guesswork or mathematical computation. He just wants to find Connors as soon as possible. His gut feeling is telling him that they need to hurry. He doesn't voice this feeling to Spock because Spock already appears to be concerned by what he hears.

The hedge row ends at an opening. Spock pauses, listens intently, then takes the lead again. Soon enough, his method of navigation plays off because Leonard's human ears are able to pick up the sound of muffled voices too.

"I think it is Connors," he says, "but I don't recognize the other voice."

Just then, a shout of alarm pierces the quietness of the maze. Leonard and Spock freeze.

Spock breaks into a run. Leonard does too, cursing under his breath, thinking that if they could have brought phasers, one good blast would take out these damn walls!

"_NO, STO—!_" The plea, clearly Connors, abruptly cuts to silence.

Leonard and Spock find the clearing in the maze a second too late.

"No!" cries Leonard, seeing one figure stooped over another crumpled on the ground. The smell of ozone and singed clothing is strong in the air.

A head jerks around, the face shadowed by the lowered hood of a dark robe. Realizing he has been discovered, the assailant bolts in the opposite direction. Spock goes after him.

Leonard rushes to the injured man, his instinct already telling him it is too late. When he turns Connors over on his back, the burn in the chest is still smoking. Leonard presses his fingers to the man's neck, hoping against all odds to find a pulse.

Spock returns to the clearing a moment later, tense and grim, not needing to voice that he lost the assailant in the maze.

Leonard meets his gaze. "He's dead."

Removing his communicator from his belt, Spock seems fixated on trying to make it work. Leonard realizes then that Spock is initiating the protocol they had agreed upon in case of an emergency. His communicator will send an alert to Kirk's communicator through an internal frequency.

Leonard starts to remove his hand from Connors' neck when his fingers catch on something strange just behind an ear. He turns the man's head to the side for a better look.

"Spock, c'mere. What do you make of this?"

"It appears to be an implant."

The doctor lightly prods the implant. On cue, the face of Mark Connors flickers and then it fades entirely, revealing a different visage with a set of odd but familiar features. Leonard twists around to stare up at Spock for confirmation of the similarities.

"Oh hell," he says, the answer dawning on him. "I think Connors is a Romulan."

"Was, Doctor, which concerns me greatly at the moment. If he was here to facilitate the exchange with the Aurelians as I suspect, what would be the motive to kill him?"

"Then this _is_ an emergency," decides Leonard. "Jim has to know."

"I have already contacted him. We should return to the ballroom as quickly as we can."

Leonard contemplates at the body of the person he didn't truly know at all. "I don't think we should leave him like this."

"To move him would create an undesirable complication to an already precarious situation."

"Things are already complicated," Leonard points out, "but I agree." He stands up. "Maybe there's a way we can send an anonymous tip to the authorities. I hate the thought of some couple out for an amorous stroll stumbling over him."

"That would be the preferable solution."

"Don't be so cold-blooded, Spock."

"Logic has nothing to do with the temperature of the blood."

"Funny, I would have said the opposite."

Spock closes his communicator. "Come, Doctor. We must go."

Leonard shakes his head but moves to Spock. "You lead. All that winding through the bushes mixed up my sense of direction."

"Very well."

* * *

Leonard pokes his head around the edge of the archway to scan the crowd. "Blast it, where is he? Spock," he calls worriedly, "how long has it been?"

"Since our arrival, twenty minutes and eleven seconds."

Leonard rounds on his Vulcan companion. "How can you sound so calm? Something's gone wrong. He lost his communicator. When he fell down the stairs. Then that evil Aurelian found him unconscious and now he is imprisoned. My god, Spock, Jim has been kidnapped in my place!"

"I would find your dramatic leaps of logic quite entertaining, Doctor, if the likelihood that the Captain has in fact encountered trouble was not increasing with each second that he remains absent."

"Did I hear my name?"

Leonard and Spock whirl around with an identical cry of "Jim!"

Spock appears to immediately recognize his mistake in expressing the relief he should pretend not to have, for his face wipes clear of emotion.

But Jim Kirk is smiling pleasantly nonetheless. "You two must have been very worried about me."

"'Course we were! Who in the devil knows what you were up... to?" Leonard's response stutters to a stop.

"Captain," Spock says calmly, "I assume you are aware of your... entourage?"

"Quite, Mr. Spock," Kirk replies. "Both of you, follow me." Their captain pivots away with the expectation that they will do exactly as ordered.

Leonard is too uneasy to say no. He and Spock fall into step on either side of Kirk.

The two Aurelians behind them are never very far behind.

"Why are we under guard?" Leonard whispers.

"My suspicions were correct," is all Jim offers in reply.

Leonard's unease turns to nervousness.

Jim seems to know where he is going because he leads them unerringly to the left wing, up two flights of stairs and through several long corridors. They and their watchdogs come to a halt outside a set of double doors with an intricately carved relief above them. One of the guards slips into the suite. A moment later, he opens the doors wide, saying, "The Governor will see you now."

The room looks more like a sitting room than an office, with one side partitioned into an area with plush furniture upon which one might recline after a long day of activity and the other side set up as a miniature study. The far wall is lined with shelves, sparsely filled. A large desk blocks the view of a small balcony that overlooks the grounds of the estate.

The Governor has changed clothes since Leonard last saw her. A waistcoat in stark black trimmed with silver braid covers a long-sleeved shirt made of very fine, pale blue silk and a matching cravat. Her trousers are of the same material and color as the waistcoat, and her thigh-high boots are sturdy leather. With a sword-belt and a saber on her hip, she looks like she belongs at the helm of a pirate ship rather than trapped behind a desk on a moon colony. He notices that her braid of hair is the same shining silver as the mystery Aurelian's.

Jim bows. "Governor, thank you for the audience. May I introduce my shipmates, Dr. Leonard McCoy and Commander Spock?"

"I remember your Vulcan, but this other human... I had wondered to whom he belonged." She moves gracefully around the wide desk to lean against the front of it with her arms folded across her chest. "He insulted a member of my Court by seducing the Vulcan away from her."

"I think that's a matter of perspective," Leonard says in his defense.

Drumming her fingers against one of her elbows, the Governor offers him a thin smile. "I suppose I would have to agree." Her attention returns to Kirk. "Captain, which of these officers claims to have been accosted?"

Leonard raises his hand. "It's not a claim, ma'am. It's a fact. He even had a goon."

"What is a goon?" she asks Kirk.

"An accomplice," the doctor clarifies. He waves a hand at the closed doors. "Like one of your guards, only out of uniform."

With her gaze still on Kirk, she says, "For the threat against your officer, I will allow you to discipline the offender should you apprehend him. However, if one of my Court finds him before you, Captain, he will be pardoned for the crime."

"Pardoned?" Leonard says in disbelief.

"Thank you, Governor," Jim replies in an even tone to rival Spock's. "That sounds fair."

"Jim, no part of that sounded fair to me!"

"It would be your word against his, Bones. A person is not prosecuted based on word alone." Suddenly Jim's eyes become hooded. "But I only need probable cause to put a man in my brig."

Kirk's unusually dark tone silences Leonard's protest.

Projecting an air of amused patience, the Governor's head inclines towards Spock. "I have noticed that your Vulcan is not very talkative. Is he shy?"

Spock breaks his silence. "I was merely assessing the situation. Why would Your Ladyship grant a personal audience to appease a guest over such a small slight?"

Leonard stares at Spock. _Small_ slight? Spock must be joking!

The Governor nods approvingly, as if Spock has said something she wished to hear.

"You would be correct, Commander. I rarely grant personal audiences... but your Captain and I must address a delicate matter in a place where those with listening ears do not dare to venture."

"The matter would pertain to the Romulans," Spock states.

The Governor's mouth curves into a wicked smile. "Yes, the Romulans." She unfolds her arms and tucks her hands behind her back, striding to stand beside a large wing-backed chair. "The Romulan Empire is well-known to be an enemy of the Federation. A ruthless race of warriors, set to conquer this galaxy. Tell me, Spock of Vulcan, is it true that Romulans and Vulcans share a common ancestry?"

"Affirmative."

"I find that intriguing. Do you consider yourself a warrior, then?"

"It would be illogical to deny that one must be willing to fight when necessary, but I would say that my aim shall always be to choose a path of peace."

"A diplomatic answer, very similar to the one your father offered me some years ago."

Spock raises one of his eyebrows. "If you have met my father, then you must understand the purpose of the Federation: to foster a peaceful coexistence between those of us who share this galaxy while preserving our individual liberties and cultures."

"Yes, Ambassador Sarek was very informative. I would welcome him again on Aurelis—" Her gaze cuts back to Kirk. "—so long as he brings none of his Federation propaganda with him."

Jim answers shrewdly, "The day may be coming when you can't avoid it."

"We shall see, Kirk."

Leonard raises his hand for the second time. "Can I just say that I'm a little confused? Forgive me, ma'am, but just because you know about the Romulans doesn't exclude you from being in collusion with them. In fact, it makes you look mighty suspicious to my eyes. Captain, what do you think?"

Jim nods slightly, taking the opportunity Leonard has given him to control conversation. "I think the Governor knows who is working with the Romulans."

"I do," she replies, dark eyes glittering.

"I also think—no, I am _certain_—that the Governor finds the Romulans slightly more despicable than us."

"Astute of you, Captain Kirk."

Leonard interjects hotly, "Then why the heck would you invite Federation members to your party?"

"A fair question," concedes their host, languidly draping one of her arms across the top of the chair. "But surely you understand that one planet cannot exist in a universe of its own, Dr. McCoy. Aurelis does have _some_ use for offworlders. And as your captain said, the time will come for my people to make a decision concerning their future. My duty is to ensure that future is a respectable one."

"Which I assure you will not happen under the rule of the Romulans," Jim concludes. "That said, would you be willing to let the Federation help you?"

"Captain, do not mistake me for a fool. I am prepared to take action without you."

_Uh-oh_, Leonard thinks.

But Spock comes to the rescue: "Is Your Ladyship willing to listen to a proposal that would not obligate Her to entertain the Federation's fancies?"

"I'm listening, Commander."

"There is, at this time, a deceased Romulan in your gardens."

"_What?_" Kirk nearly shouts, turning on his First Officer.

Leonard places a hand to his forehead and mutters, "Need to teach you some tact, hobgoblin."

Spock ignores both humans. "He attended your Gala under the guise of a Terran trader named Mark Connors. I would, of course, like to point out that it is highly unlikely he was killed by someone of his own party, therefore implying the existence of a third party who, already aware of his presence and his purpose, decided to eliminate him."

Leonard turns to the Governor, staring at her in a new light.

"Go on," she replies, unperturbed.

"Under normal circumstances this is merely conjecture... and likely to remain so given that Starfleet has no jurisdiction in investigate the murder of a non-Federation member on a non-Federation planet. However, I do recall a particular clause in our regulations which states that if an officer is engaged in business with a victim of a crime, he may assist the local authorities in their investigation until such time that he is satisfied that the investigation has been appropriately resolved. To my knowledge, Dr. McCoy had engaged in discussion with Mr. Connors regarding his trade—that is, the wine he sold."

Leonard hopes his expression doesn't give away his surprise. He thinks, _Spock, you rascal! You're going to get caught!_

Spock continues on placidly, "I assume you would find it bothersome to have Dr. McCoy join your investigation of the Romulan's death."

The Governor's eyes gleam as if she is greatly enjoying the conversation. "Undoubtedly. What do you propose so that I might avoid this situation?"

"Is Spock really blackmailing the Governor of Aurelis?" Leonard whispers to Jim.

"I think so," Jim whispers back, looking quite proud of his First Officer.

If Spock hears them talking about him, he pretends otherwise.

"A simple alliance, to be dissolved in conjunction with the dissolution of the Romulan-Aurelian pact."

"In other words," adds Jim, "if you help us preserve this sector of space by telling the Romulans to go home, we'll leave you alone... for the time being."

"Until I invite you to come back," amends the Governor.

"All right," the captain agrees mildly.

Leonard watches in fascination as the Governor's wicked smile turns genuine.

"Then we have an accord, Captain Kirk. Since I find that I am pleased, I will tell you who attacked your officer."

Leonard's whole body jolts. "Wait, you knew all along?"

Her amusement remains evident for all to see. "Dr. McCoy, there is little that occurs on these premises to which I am not privy." Then, sounding shockingly detached, she informs them McCoy's attacker is her nephew.

"While Jorval did inherit the family temper, he was not blessed with cunning or patience. Realizing that the doctor could be in a position to expose his duplicity, he intended to silence the human."

"That... doesn't sound like kidnapping," Leonard says slowly.

"Death would be the most permanent solution," the Governor explains in a cool manner. "My point is this: my nephew cares little for elaborate deceptions. His interest lies solely in the rewards. The one who enjoys the challenge would be my husband."

Leonard exchanges a glance with Spock.

Jim just looks grim to hear this. "Do you have evidence to support your theory?"

"A theory it is not. If this ploy with the Romulans succeeds as planned, I shall be dead and my husband will become Regent." Oddly, she smiles.

Leonard makes a face. "Sounds like have a wonderful marriage."

"Every marriage has its disappointments, Dr. McCoy."

"You're more generous than I would be if my spouse was plotting to murder me."

"You see things as a man of your race would. We of Aurelis deal with traitors in our own way, in our own time. I have long since been aware that my husband's ambitions have outgrown his current position."

Jim clears his throat. "Then we'll leave the resolution of your domestic... dispute to your own discretion, Governor. My chief concern lies with the Romulans. What have they promised your husband in exchange for joining the Empire?"

"On this, I am unclear. There is a shipment expected to arrive but what it contains, what it is, is unknown. Weapons, perhaps. Technology. Our spaceflight capabilities are rather subpar in comparison to the warp technology used by other starfarers. I have no other suggestions. That answer you must discover for yourselves."

Jim bows slightly from the waist. "Then I thank you. The information you have provided will benefit us greatly in our mission."

Suddenly the Governor looks bored with their company. "Is our business concluded?"

Leonard turns to his captain. "Jim, it's all well and good to know who shouldn't be at our backs but how the heck do we tell Scotty to stay on the lookout for a Romulan Warbird?"

"That may be a question Her Ladyship can address," Spock interjects.

The three officers turn as one to the Aurelian, who offers them a slight smile.

"Oh... yes. I issued an order to dampen all external communications. Has that caused you some trouble?"

"Why?" Jim asks, clearly wary of the answer.

For the first time, Leonard sees the family resemblance between the Governor and her murderous nephew. Instinctively, he steps forward to shield Kirk; from the corner of his eye, he sees Spock do the same.

But true to his nature, Jim pushes in front of them again, demanding "Why?" again when a response does not come quickly enough for him.

"Simply put, I did not trust you, Kirk. I still do not trust you. I do not trust your Federation. Nor do I trust the Romulans."

"She probably doesn't trust her own grandmother," mutters McCoy.

The Governor's eyes pin the doctor for the briefest second, at which point he wisely closes his mouth.

She continues, her tone turning silky, "Therefore I would appreciate a show of faith so that my confidence in you might grow. One of you must become my honored guest until such time that I am assured of my safety from the Romulans or any other threat."

Leonard exclaims, "That's a fancy way of saying you want a hostage!"

His accusation isn't denied.

"No," is Kirk's firm reply. "We do this the civilized way, or not at all."

"This is civilized for me, Kirk. I could just as easily detain all three of you—" Her eyes are glittering like polished obsidian. "—on the suspicion of murder. The Aurelian method of interrogation is rather... rigorous. You would confess your crime in no time at all, and then you would be swiftly executed."

Leonard knew this woman was frightening but to have it confirmed makes him feel worse rather than better. "You couldn't do that. We're Federation citizens. We have rights."

"Your Federation laws do not apply on Aurelis, Dr. McCoy, and no _regulation_ can protect you from my will, which is Law." Her mouth curves, but the smile is not in the least bit gracious. "I will allow you a moment of privacy to make your decision."

With that, the Governor of Aurelis leaves Kirk, Spock, and McCoy inside the suite with her guards at the door.

Leonard's breath comes out as one big _whoosh_. "I say we make a break for it."

"No," Jim says.

"Are you kidding?

"No." Jim's voice is hard and flat. "I'll stay."

"_Captain_," Spock says sharply, moving closer as though he anticipates Kirk might run out the door.

"Absolutely not," Leonard vetoes the idea. "A Starfleet captain doesn't hand himself over as a hostage, and you know it, Jim."

"It's not unprecedented."

"Screw that. It's NOT happening." Leonard pauses, casts an appraising glance at the Vulcan. "And you can take it on good authority that Spock and I will fight you into the ground before we let you do something so foolish."

Jim rounds on him, hands flexing. "Bones, it's not your decision to make."

Leonard responds in kind, his own temper sharpening. "I'll declare you medically incompetent, _Captain_. Then it will be my decision!"

"Didn't I warn you not to challenge me, McCoy?"

"Ha! Don't challenge _me._"

"Gentlemen," Spock interrupts, "no proper decision can be made out of hostility. Captain, Dr. McCoy is correct in one aspect. You cannot become a hostage of the Governor. The political implications could lead to war."

Jim lifts his eyebrows. "I'm just a captain, Spock."

"With all due respect, you are the captain of a flagship."

"I can forfeit my captaincy, hand command of the Enterprise over to you. We've done it that way before. She won't know, and Starfleet can negotiate for my release as a citizen."

"I hate that idea, Jim. I always have. Who's to say Starfleet won't drop you like a hot potato instead and leave you to the mercy of your captor?"

Jim locks his hands behind his back and paces an invisible line across the room. "It's our best option, Bones."

"The best option is to let someone less important bear the risk, like me or Spock. Sorry, Spock. No offense intended."

"I have taken none, Doctor."

"I can't," Kirk claims stubbornly.

Leonard looks to Spock. Spock inclines his head slightly in tacit agreement and moves to the adjoining balcony so that he is both out of sight but close enough to respond if needed. Leonard waits a few seconds before he approaches Kirk.

"Jim, be reasonable," he says in a soft voice. "You're going to have to pick someone other than yourself. When it comes down to it, no one can resolve this mess _but_ you. You saw how the Governor acted. She doesn't have any respect for us, and her vanity prevents her from negotiating with anyone she considers of inferior rank. If you want to talk about best options, our only chance of succeeding comes from you retaining your autonomy."

"Leaving you or Spock to her mercy."

Leonard knows when to be patient. "Yes."

"You don't know what you're asking me to do."

"Don't I? It's not the first time you've had to choose one of us for the sake of a critical mission."

"And every time I hope it's the last... but it never is," Jim replies, grim as ever. "I know you think I can be objective about this, Bones, but it's difficult for me." The man looks tired when he runs a hand over his face. "It only becomes more difficult with time."

There's something Jim is trying to tell him without saying it outright, but Leonard doesn't know the right questions to ask. So he says instead, "How can I help make it easier? By volunteering?"

"No!" Jim visibly swallows. "It has to be a command, Bones. I... have to take responsibility, at the very least."

Leonard shakes his head in dismay. "One thing I've learned about you is that I can physically stop you from going into danger but I can never protect you from the danger of your own mind. If you create a demon in here, Jim," he taps his forehead, "you have to fight it by yourself."

"Enough, Bones. I don't need a lecture on my mental health."

"I'm not giving you one. Just a reminder. There's no blame here, or will be in the future. So pick one, a'right? And then let it go for your own sake."

"Pick one?" Kirk's laugh is mirthless. He pinches the bridge of his nose, one of his signs that usually foretells the beginning of a migraine. "You may as well ask me to choose my eyes or my ears. Which would I be willing to live without... when I don't want to lose either."

"People survive it all the time, being blind or deaf."

"But they wouldn't ask for it if there was a choice. That's the difference."

"What are you trying to say?"

Jim looks away. "I don't know."

Leonard steps forward. "Yes, you do. Look at me, Jim." He waits for Jim to obey. "Which one?"

"Neither."

"That isn't an option."

Jim's free hand forms a fist. "It has to be."

"You can't protect everyone. You can't save everyone. You can't have—" _everyone_. Leonard swallows that word. "—everything you want. You know that, Captain, better than anyone else." He gentles his tone. "Please, choose. Or if you can't, say so. Spock and I will decide between us."

It doesn't surprise Leonard when Jim reaches for him, needing the contact. A moment later, Kirk gives in, whispering his answer in McCoy's ear.

"Okay," Leonard murmurs, sympathizing. He holds his friend a little longer, thinking they both need the comfort.

* * *

Of all things, Spock has disappeared from the balcony.

"Well, he can't have jumped off," Leonard reasons as he looks to the empty courtyard below, "and I doubt he climbed down."

"He did neither," Jim answers firmly, marching to a second door to the balcony. The door swings open easily when pushed upon.

Leonard hurries after Kirk into an empty bedroom. A terrible feeling grows in the pit of his stomach.

They find the Vulcan in the outer hallway, standing alongside the Governor and her guards.

"It was a wise decision to cooperate," the Governor says before either Kirk or McCoy can speak. "I have arranged for you to take the body of the Romulan to your ship and removed your communications ban. You must contact me, Captain Kirk, once you have devised a suitable strategy to waylay our enemy."

Focused solely on Spock, Jim acts as if he hasn't heard a word of what was said. Everything about him is tense. "Commander, what is the meaning of this?"

"Circumstances are as they appear, sir. I have volunteered to remain with the Governor, and she accepted."

"Spock!" Leonard gasps, shocked.

Jim turns red in the face, as he does when he's furious. "You had no right—no right to supersede my authority!"

The Governor releases a sigh and trails back into the suite she had left them in as if she has no desire to listen to their squabbling. Her only remark is, "Join me, Commander Spock, once you have finished your goodbyes."

"I shall, Governor."

Leonard catches Jim's hand as it balls into a fist and says, "Easy, Jim."

"Spock, I order you to stand down."

"I am afraid I cannot comply, Captain."

"I make the decisions!"

"In this instance, your decision would be wrong."

Leonard sucks in a breath. "Spock, let's not—"

"Doctor, this matter is between Captain Kirk and myself. Capt—no. Jim. I do not see a way to offer an explanation more straightforwardly than I already have. I surmised that you would choose Dr. McCoy, quite easily in fact. You are after all," Spock says in a strangely quiet manner, "remarkably competent in your command decisions when under duress. But I... find I am not agreeable to acting based on logic in this situation."

Leonard feels his jaw drop. He closes it and for good measure works a finger into his ear to make certain his hearing isn't stopped up.

Did Spock just _denounce_ logic?

Meanwhile, Jim's anger appears to have quieted, though it hasn't vanished entirely. He scrutinizes Spock with thoughtful consideration. "Why?"

"Leonard would call it 'caring', but since I am uncomfortable admitting to an emotion in his presence, we will say that I am simply follow your original order to ensure his safety." Spock blinks. "On the record, of course."

"There you go again with my first name," Leonard says, choked. "Damn hobgoblin."

"...Doctor, if you are approaching me with any intention of touching my person, I ask that you do not."

"Hold still, you wily devil."

"Captain," the Vulcan bleats from the circle of the doctor's arms, "Captain—Jim—_please_ remove him."

Jim crosses his arms. "You have to be punished for your disobedience somehow, Mr. Spock. Consider a hug getting off easy."

Leonard finally lets go of his wooden partner, giving one of Spock's thin shoulders a friendly pat. "There now, don't we all feel better?"

"No," Spock replies immediately.

"I'm still mad," Jim announces, "but I'm willing to forgive you, Spock, on the condition that you do nothing to provoke the Governor until your return to the ship."

"Yeah," Leonard adds slyly, "because then Jim's going to kick your butt from here to the Orion Belt."

"_Bones._"

"What?"

"...Never mind."

Spock reminds them, "The Governor has deactivated the dampener."

Jim nods and pulls out his communicator. His first attempt of "Kirk to Enterprise" is a successful one.

"_Scott here. We had a fright when we couldn't contact ye, Capt'n! Strangest thing, though... communications seem to be workin' now._"

"Yes, there was some interference from the surface. But we'll discuss that later. For now, two to beam up, Mr. Scott." Jim draws in a small breath. "Myself... and Doctor McCoy."

The engineer sounds alarmed. "_Not Mr. Spock, sir?_"

Jim's voice hardens slightly. "It's as I said."

"_...Aye. Stand by for transport._"

Jim clicks the device shut, the skin around his eyes tightening as his First Officer purposely moves back to remain out of range. "Remember what I said, Spock."

"I will, Captain."

Leonard's heart picks up speed at the first inkling of the tingling sensation associated with the transporter beam. "Spock," he says a bit helplessly, "I swear we'll come back."

The Vulcan lifts his hand in goodbye, speaking. It matters little that Leonard cannot hear a word over the buzzing in his ears, for the Vulcan salutation could be accompanied by nothing other than _live long and prosper_.

He reforms on the transporter pad with Kirk, tears in his eyes. The spot beside him where Spock should have stood has never felt emptier.


	4. Part Three

**Part Three**

The Enterprise's CMO sinks down into his chair at the same time that the Chief Engineer's mouth drops open.

"_Capt'n_," Mr. Scott says, aghast.

Kirk's hands flex on his armrests.

Leonard takes pity on Jim. "Scotty, Spock took the choice out of our hands."

But the other man begins to shake his head. "It's not Mr. Spock's decision that shocks me, Doctor. I'd even go so far as to say him I understand."

Their captain's eyebrows come down. "Mr. Scott..."

Unfazed by the warning, the engineer pins his superior with an incredulous stare. "Sir, with all due respect, _what were you thinking?_"

Leonard straightens up again, his interest piqued.

Jim's mouth flattens into a thin line. "If your concern is for the mission..."

"Aye!" cries Scotty, throwing his hands up. "Spying, Capt'n—and on the Romulans no less! I thought we had our fill of that nonsense last year!"

"My point exactly," Leonard agrees.

"Bones," his friend mutters.

Riled now, Mr. Scott clearly isn't finished. "If Command had half a brain between them... Sorry, sir, but the way I see it exploration and espionage aren't interchangeable, not even for the flagship. I think if any of us wanted that, we would have picked a career in Special Ops. "

Kirk's expression softens somewhat. "I won't disagree with you, Mr. Scott, but think of it this way: our five-year mission is to explore, yes, and to seek new life—but we must protect those lives in addition to our own. As captain, it is my duty to determine if the outcome is worth the risk involved. Therefore I can't simply dismiss an intelligence operation when I know the greater good will be served by it." He pauses. "By that same token, I would never ask you or any other officer on this ship to stand against your own principles."

"Aye, I know that, sir. It's why I'm still willing to serve under you."

"Thank you, Scotty."

"Can I interject here?"

Jim turns an amused look upon the doctor. "I didn't expect otherwise, Bones."

Leonard harrumphs. "First, stop channeling Spock. It's making me uncomfortable. And, second, although I don't like clandestine missions either, to Scotty's point, I trust your judgment. But it needs to be pointed out, Captain, that a well-informed crew is a happy crew. At the very least, your senior officers should be in a position to advise you. When we're left in the dark, you hamstring yourself as much as us."

"And if the mission is above your security clearance?"

Leonard's eyes sparkle. "I seem to recall a little thing like that hasn't stopped you before, Jim."

His friend finally smiles. "Too true. Some days I wonder if I shouldn't reconsider my position on medical officers visiting the bridge."

Leonard's look plainly reads _you wouldn't dare_.

Jim sighs through his nose, conceding, "I admit, this team works better without secrets."

"Damn right!" McCoy and Scott say together.

Jim lifts a hand and rubs a temple. "Are you two finished with the lecture?"

"That depends on how well it takes," is the doctor's prim reply.

"We'll see, Bones."

"Yes, we shall."

They trade smiles, a habit born from years of friendship.

"What're we planning to do about the Romulans?" Scotty wants to know. "And will we have to fight that governor to get Mr. Spock back?"

The pleasantness in Kirk's face dims as the grim reality of their predicament casts a pall over the conference room.

Leonard thinks of Spock as he had last seen him: calm, stalwart in the face of the unknown. The urge to return to the Aurelis Moon is a strong one. He doesn't think he would even be slowed down by a transporter.

An idea strikes him in that instant which makes him bolt upright in his chair.

The captain eyes him with sharp speculation.

"They have control of the landing pad, right?" Leonard guesses.

"We could beam someone down without clearance," answers the ship's engineer, "but we'd run the risk of an interruption to our signal. That pad was heavily guarded the last time I had Chekov scan the area."

Leonard shudders internally at the thought of someone 'interrupting the signal' that just happens to be his atoms transporting through space.

Jim questions, "What about the mansion itself? How could we get inside without anyone noticing?"

"You mean like how you got out? Not a chance, Capt'n. There's a deflector shield over the building. It went up as soon as I pulled you and Dr. McCoy to the ship."

"The Governor knows what she's about," Leonard mutters, torn between irritation and admiration.

"She would, Bones. Aurelis' governing body and militia go hand-in-hand. The Governor leads both."

Leonard studies his captain. "You find her formidable, don't you?"

"Do you know why a course in Klingon history is required for the command track, Bones?"

He quotes the adage, "'Know thy enemy.'"

But Jim shakes his head. "It's more than that. Like the rest of us, the Klingon race started out on a single world. So, what united them into an empire instead of a federation? What has made them strong, and what prevents their system from collapsing into chaos?"

"In other words, they're a case study of the success of tyranny," Leonard summarizes.

"Perhaps, Bones. For now one might call their empire successful."

Scotty makes a face. "Talking about the Klingons isn't making me feel any easier."

"Me either, Jim."

"Gentlemen, my point is a simple one. The knowledge is invaluable in the field. The studies conducted on Aurelis—past and present—have indicated more than a few similarities between the evolution of their society and the Klingons'. The potential there is... frightening."

Leonard draws in a quick breath. "So why are we pushing them to join the Federation?"

Jim drums his fingertips on an armrest. "Then should we overlook an opportunity to positively influence a people who might one day decide to start an empire of their own?"

"That's dodgy territory, Jim. When does setting a good example become altering the natural course of a species?"

"I know." Kirk sighs heavily through his nose. "And I don't necessarily believe we should involve ourselves. Starfleet Command and the Federation Board feel differently."

"Capt'n," Scotty cuts in, "distressing as it sounds, I recommend we table that worry for another time, given that we don't find ourselves in an interplanetary war before then."

"I agree, Mr. Scott. The priority is to tackle the present threat."

"The Romulans," Leonard replies.

"Yes." Jim visibly hesitates. "And as for Spock..."

Leonard cannot help himself. He reaches for Jim's hand, just to cover it with his own, if briefly. "Spock can take care of himself. Besides, maybe he can be of some use to us from down there."

Jim returns the gesture of comfort by capturing Leonard's fingers and squeezing them. Then he lets Leonard go. "You looked like you had an idea a minute ago. What was it?"

"I was thinking we might take advantage of that passenger shuttle going back and forth to the Gala."

A new light comes into Jim's eyes, the kind that usually implies he has already leaped three or four thoughts ahead of the rest of them. "We can't beam down to the moon, but masquerading as crewmen from another ship we might just have a chance of finding a way in."

Scotty leans forward. "Aye, I like the sound of that. We've got more than a few Federation friends in orbit with us. Though, Capt'n, wouldn't it be better to send someone the Governor and her security team wouldn't recognize?"

Leonard purses his mouth, dismayed. _He_ wanted to rescue Spock.

The brief flicker across Kirk's face belies a similar kind of emotion but the man nods his approval. "I want a list of the other captains as soon as you can get it. I don't care if they're manning battle cruisers or two-passenger rowboats."

"I'll ask Uhura to work on it right away, sir."

"Good. Bones."

"Captain?"

"What would you say to joining me on the Observation Deck?"

Leonard is surprised Jim would bother to ask him that. "Where you go, I go, Jim."

His captain stands up. "Meeting adjourned, then. Scotty, you know where we'll be."

"Aye." The engineer comes to his feet as well and is the first to leave.

Jim catches Leonard's eyes for a moment. Oddly enough, he doesn't say anything before he turns away. Leonard joins him in the outer corridor a minute later and in silence they walk to the nearest turbolift.

Whatever is on Jim's mind, Leonard realizes then, is not something he wishes to discuss in public. Leonard finds that he is anxious to know exactly what that 'something' is.

The Observation Deck should be occupied even into an early third shift (being one of the more popular rendezvous spots on the ship) but it's as though word got out that the Captain and CMO were in need of privacy. Leonard's companion strides for the viewing platform; if he notices the absence of others, he doesn't mention it.

The men take a few seconds to make themselves comfortable against the railing: Jim with his gaze fixed upon the view of their orbit and Leonard half-turned towards him in anticipation and concern. The round, luminous glow of the Aurelis Moon below the Enterprise washes the deck in white. Nothing seems hidden, but the moonlight has created shadows in place where usually there are none.

Eventually Kirk breaks the silence between them. "You were right."

Leonard swallows an automatic retort of _Aren't I always?_

"We can use Spock. We need information only the Aurelians would know, and he's in a position to obtain it." The man leans his weight onto the railing, releasing a slow breath. "But should he be caught... you can imagine what that might cost. There wouldn't be anything you or I could do to mitigate the repercussions."

"Yes," Leonard says patiently, "but why are you telling me all of this if you've already made up your mind?"

"Because I want the opinion of someone who cares about the person more than the outcome."

Leonard frowns. "Jim, no one could care for Spock more than you."

"For me to remain objective that cannot matter." Jim turns his head to look at Leonard. "But, Bones, this time I _need_ the other side to be argued. I need it."

"From me," the doctor finishes, unable to puzzle out the reason for the soft edge of desperation to Jim's voice.

"Who better?" One of Jim's hands lifts from the railing to run over his face. "You know I'm not good at expressing myself over... personal matters." His hand drops away and he faces Leonard. "But I don't have to, do I? Not when there's you."

Leonard huffs. "Are you trying to insult me or compliment me, Captain?"

Jim laughs, the sound light but all too brief. "It's no insult that your strength complements my weakness."

The doctor places a hand over his heart. "James T. Kirk admitting that he can be weak? Is the sky falling?"

"Joke all you want, Bones, but I'm no fool. I can recognize value when I see it." His smile fades somewhat. "That said, are you still angry with me?"

He hesitates, telling himself that he owes Jim the same measure of honesty. "Anger was only a small part of it."

"I hope you know that I didn't intend to hurt you."

"I know that, Jim. It's my disappointment that I have to contend with. I can't force you to perceive me the way I want to be perceived."

Jim studies Leonard, gaze serious. "How do you want to be perceived?"

He has no hesitation this time. "As an equal."

Jim's small step forward brings them closer together. "You are equal in my eyes."

Leonard raises an eyebrow. "You aren't going to ask me in which respect?"

"I don't need to. What I said applies on all accounts, Bones."

Leonard sighs. "Then how did we end up here?"

Jim's hands curl around the doctor's shoulders. "I'm sorry. Have I said that? Because I am."

The play of light and shadow across Jim's face gives him a strange allure. Leonard is struck by a sudden, irrational fantasy that he is being drawn close for a reason much more intimate than would accompany a friendly apology. His right hand tightens on the railing after the shock of that thought, and he uses his self-imposed tether to slowly pull himself back.

"You... ah," he says somewhat nervously, "haven't told me the specifics of your plan for Spock."

"_Bones_," Jim says just once, some kind of soft plea, then reluctantly lets go of him. "I suppose this means you won't argue with me?"

"It will be a good plan," Leonard replies, his jittery feeling fading away. "Besides, Spock would get mad if you didn't give him an important task to do."

Amused resignation passes through Jim's eyes. "Handing himself over to the enemy wasn't enough?"

Leonard snorts. "Hardly. He'll be bored by now."

"Bones, you..." But Jim settles for shaking his head instead of finishing his statement. "Never mind."

Leonard pushes away to step down from the platform. "I assume you want to get that pointy-eared computer on the horn."

"'On the horn?'" Jim follows him. "What century are you from?"

"I'm Southern. No sayin' is outdated to us Southerners."

When Jim is finally in step beside him, as if on cue, the nearest wall comm unit comes alive with "_Bridge to Captain Kirk._"

Jim makes a change in their course to bring them up to the unit. "Kirk here."

"_Capt'n, we've got that list ye requested._"

"Excellent, Mr. Scott. Dr. McCoy and I are headed your way. I think it's time to make a few house calls."

"_Aye, sir._"

Kirk glances sidelong at the man next to him. "Something you want to add, Bones?"

Leonard smiles, locking his hands behind his back. "Not a thing, Jim. Not a thing."

The captain appears take the doctor at his word, for in the next moment they abandon the Observation Deck to its strange shadows.

* * *

Kirk veers towards his Chief Communications Officer's station before his descent from the upper level of the bridge.

To her, he says, "See if you can reach Mr. Spock."

"Yes, Captain." A moment later, Uhura reports, "Sensors indicate broadcast signals are functioning normally, sir. I have routed an open channel to your chair."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

Jim punches a button with the side of his fist as he sits down. "Enterprise to Commander Spock."

"_Spock here. Captain, it is a pleasure to hear your voice._"

Jim leans forward as if by being closer to the speaker, he can become closer to his absent officer. "...Spock," he starts and stops, seeming to mentally shake himself. "What is your status?"

"_Currently in seclusion, Captain, although my surroundings are by no means uncomfortable. When I informed the Governor I had no desire to rejoin the Gala with her, I was escorted here. My... company is still with me._"

Leonard leans over the chair's back. "Spock, I hope they've been civil to you."

"_Quite, Doctor. It seems that while the Governor may dislike many species, Vulcans are worth her admiration._"

"He's perfectly fine, Jim."

Kirk only nods. "Spock, the dialect, can you...?"

"_I have already done so. I must point out that an adjustment to the logarithms of the program seems necessary. The translation from Standard to Vulcan is appalling._"

"Another time, Mr. Spock." Jim's hands flex on his knees. "Right now, we need your help. McCoy says you memorized the layout of the mansion. Do you know where the operations control room would be?"

"_Affirmative._"

"See if you can access the records of Connors' arrival on Aurelis—when he arrived, by what vessel, anything you think we can use."

"_To what extent may I proceed?_"

"By any means necessary," Jim answers grimly.

Leonard grips the back of the chair but doesn't say anything against the order.

"_Understood._"

"Spock, it's safe to assume the Governor has her people working to decrypt our signal. We're in the process of devising another way to contact you, but until then use your communicator sparingly."

Leonard's grip tightens as Spock replies, ever obedient, "_Yes, Captain._"

"That will be all, Mr. Spock."

Leonard breaks in, unable to stop himself, "We _are_ going to get you out of there."

Spock answers in a language Leonard doesn't understand.

"Enterprise out." Jim signals Uhura to close the channel.

"What did he say?" Leonard asks a moment later.

Uhura turns away from her station. "He quoted a line from a famous Vulcan poem, Dr. McCoy." She recites it in Vulcan then in Standard: 'Faith is the bloom that does not waver in a strong wind.'"

Kirk closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he asks for the roster of vessels.

Scotty steps down to the lower level with a data padd in hand. "You'll recognize some of the names."

Leonard reads the list from over his captain's shoulder. When Jim reaches the end, he scrolls back to the top and goes through it a second time.

"Anyone who'll do in a pinch?" Leonard asks softly.

"Yes but..." The man stops scrolling halfway down and taps his finger against the padd screen. "This one. Does it look familiar to you?"

Leonard reads off the name of the craft. "Maid Marian?" He snorts. "The owner must think he is Robin Hood."

"Not that, Bones. It's civilian. Registered to Mr. Harold Fenton."

Leonard watches Jim's face for some sign of what he might be thinking. "Should I recognize that name?"

Kirk turns in his chair. "Uhura, open a hail to the Maid Marian."

"Hailing, sir." She frowns and adds after a minute of concentrating on her earpiece, "No response."

Leonard wonders, "A hunch, Jim?"

Jim pats the back of his neck. "More like a red alert, here. Lieutenant, open the hail from this end." He leans back in his chair. "This is Captain Kirk of the starship Enterprise. I'm requesting to speak to the captain of the Maid Marian."

"Sir," Sulu interjects, "she's breaking out of orbit."

"Oh, that's not suspicious at all," Leonard remarks.

Jim's eyes have narrowed. "Prepare to break orbit and follow her, Mr. Sulu. Mr. Chekov, what's the heading?"

"Projecting coordinate 4139.96, mark 1429, Keptin."

"Plot a course to bring us ahead at warp factor two. Scotty, are the engines warmed up?"

"Aye, all toasty warm, sir."

Leonard asks no one in particular, "Do I need to sit down for this?"

But Jim tells him, "You're fine. A civilian charter can't outrun a constitution-class starship."

"Apparently nobody told them that."

"The Maid Marian is nearing the second moon, Captain."

"On my command, Mr. Sulu," the captain reminds his pilot.

"Jim, about that debris field..."

"I know, Bones." Jim taps his fingers against his chair arm. "It's a smart move on their part, but one that won't work. Sulu... now!"

It is a testament to the excellent condition of the Enterprise, thinks Leonard, that she can break orbit and go to warp within a parsec. In the blink of an eye, they have leaped the distance separating the twin moons and come to rest just in between the escaping ship and second moon's debris field.

Kirk orders, "Activate tractor beam. Uhura, hail them." He addresses the other ship. "I commend you for the attempt, however ineffectual. I have your ship in stasis. Will your captain come forward?"

No one answers.

"We're not even offered common courtesy. What's this galaxy coming to?" Leonard murmurs.

Jim's mouth forms a thin line as he declares to the other vessel, "Prepare to be boarded." Then he is out of his seat, saying, "Sulu, you have the conn," and at the turbolift door in three long strides.

Leonard and Scotty exchange a glance and hurry after him.

* * *

Leonard turns the phaser over in his hand. "How about I take my medical tricorder instead?"

His neighbor—and captain—only says, "Phasers set to stun."

Leonard and the two security officers on the transporter pad comply. From behind the console, manning the controls, Mr. Scott offers their team an encouraging nod.

They reform in a space much too cramped to comfortably house four people.

"Is this a passenger ship or a garbage scow?" Leonard says, eyeing a leaning stack of crates with trepidation.

Jim pushes ahead of their group, weaving his way past several containers and additional towers of crates. It's almost frightening to discover that this junkyard is the bridge of the spacecraft. At the center of the deck, one being is verbally thrashing another being in a language that sounds like animal screeches.

Then the first being—a human—turns around, his look of distress changing in the next instant to a crow of surprise. "Captain! Why, I didn't realize it was _you!_"

Kirk smiles grimly. "I thought so. Harold Fenton—or should I say, Harcourt Fenton Mudd."

"Oh lord," mutters Leonard. "Not again."

Harry Mudd's ruddy face beams back at them. "You're just as I remember you, Captain Kirk. Ever the dashing fellow!"

No one is buying the act of innocence, especially not Kirk. He demands, "How did you manage to get out of your sentence this time?"

Mudd pats the pockets of his patchwork coat as if the memory might be stowed in one of them. "Well... you see, there was this funny little Rigellan who had a cousin who knew a friend of a friend with a horrible—truly horrible!—head for Andorian ale and—"

Leonard rolls his eyes heavenward at the same time his captain insists, "Enough. I now realize I have no desire to hear the answer."

"But it's a good story... well, if you insist. What brings you to my humble abode, Captain? Oh!" Mudd turns to a crate and tugs at its lid, which comes off with a _pop_ of air decompression. "Yes, this one, I think. Have you ever touched real Dinarian crystal?"

Jim steps forward. "We're not here to buy your wares, Mudd."

"Then that is a shame, my friends, truly."

Leonard moves around Kirk to take a look in the open container. "Jim, there are wine glasses in here."

The garrulous trader halts in his discourse about something that no one is even paying attention to in order to scrutinize McCoy. "Do _you_ want to sample my crystal, sir?"

"Actually," Leonard says, "I want to know if you supplied the glassware for the Gala."

Mudd becomes even more animated. "Why, I did, I did! The Aurelians put that awful fruity champagne in them but who am I to tell a customer how to use his product? I just sell it... at a cheap discount might I add. Is this all that you wanted to know? Well then, Kirk, the fright you gave me was quite unwarranted! I thought I might have done something _wrong_."

"I don't doubt that you have," is Kirk's dry reply.

But the other man waves his hands about in adamant denial. "No, no, I have turned a new leaf since my unfortunate incarceration—brief though it was. I only operate through the most legitimate channels, with the most scrupulous sources! I assure you, Dinarian crystal is perfectly legal for trade. Again, at a discount. Everything's discounted. My good man," he says to one of the security officers, holding up a wine glass, "would you like to test the strength of this glass? I can guarantee that its fracture rate is only a quarter of the cheaper brands."

"Jim," Leonard says in a low tone, "he's going to try to sell us everything on this ship if you don't say something."

Jim agrees rather loudly, "You're right, Doctor."

Mudd stops to draw a breath. "I beg your pardon? Did you say something, Captain?"

"I did. You're under arrest."

He gasps. "On what charge!"

"Registering this trade vessel under a false identify."

The pilot, who had been hither-to watching the exchange with interest, starts to squawk rapidly in his native language.

"No, no, no, you're mistaken!" Mudd pleads this to both Kirk's group and his own staff. "I am Harold Fenton! I simply had to change my name on my business license for... for tax purposes! _Death to taxes!_"

The cry for revolution is lost on the crowd.

Kirk tucks away his phaser. "The fines won't be overly severe unless there are other—" He eyes the various containers on the bridge. "—anomalies discovered after we confiscate your inventory and turn it over to the United Trade Bureau."

Mudd turns red in the face. "C-Confiscate...?"

Leonard shakes his head. "What a waste, Jim. And I thought this ship would be perfect to help us out."

"Yes, I'm disappointed too, Bones."

"Now, wait a minute, gentlemen," insists the nervous man as Kirk signals his two security officers to advance on Mudd. "Surely we can reason through this. Where's that logical Vulcan of yours?"

Kirk flips open his communicator. "This will be the third time you've been in my brig."

"No! No, I-I would be honored to help Starfleet in its time of need!"

The security officers freeze when their captain lifts a stalling hand.

Jim steps forward. "Given our history, Mr. Mudd, why would help me?"

"But that's why it's history, Kirk. It's in the past!" Harry sidles up to Jim, mopping at the sweat on his brow. "Now tell your dear friend Harry how he can be of service to you."

Jim looks to Leonard. Leonard nods.

"To start," his captain says, "we need you to convince the Aurelians to buy more of crystal."

The trader snaps his fingers and proclaims, "At a discount!"

Leonard suppresses a laugh. Won't Spock hate that he missed this bit of fun?

The urge to laugh dies all of a sudden, and his chest tightens. His mouth shapes the Vulcan's name, but Leonard can't bring himself to say it when there is no one to answer him.

A hand touches the doctor's shoulder.

"Bones," Jim says, his expression controlled but his gaze equally pained as Leonard's, "time to go."

* * *

It seems that Mudd might actually be a decent (albeit crafty) salesman. After he is informed that his ship will be released from the traction on the condition that a team of security officers remain onboard the Maid Marian, Mudd returns his ship to its former position in orbit about the Aurelis Moon, and Kirk receives a report from his Chief of Security that the trader wasted no time in contacting the Gala's event planner. Mudd offers the Aurelian 'his very last case of rare Dinarian crystal wine glasses at a truly reasonable price' (upon hearing Mudd's definition of reasonable, Leonard gags), and then arranges a quick meeting on the moon for the Aurelian to see 'other special products on sale' which were not previously mentioned to be part of his cargo. Nobody dares to ask what items Mudd plans to pawn off on the Aurelians.

"I wouldn't ditch a party for a character like him," Leonard tells Jim when they finally file out of the transporter room.

"That's because you don't have the time or the money, Bones."

"On a ship surgeon's salary? You have that right!" Leonard stays in step with Jim all the way to the turbolift. "Have you decided who should go?"

"I should."

"But you can't," Leonard points out, "unless you let me to come too."

Jim slants a look at him that requires no explanation.

"So," the doctor presses insistently while they wait for the lift to arrive, "who's going?"

"Sulu, most likely."

"Good choice."

The lift arrives and its door slides open, but Leonard stays behind while his friend boards the turbolift.

"Bones?" Jim questions.

"I want to check in with Sickbay."

The other man nods. "All right." To the ship's computer, Kirk orders, "Bridge."

The door closes. Leonard waits until the lift is in motion before he rubs at his chin. Then he locates the nearest wall comm and places a call to his head nurse. "McCoy to Chapel."

The woman who answers sounds groggy. "...Dr. McCoy?"

"Sorry to wake you, Christine, but this is an emergency."

"Right. I'll be in Sickbay in five minutes."

"No, meet me in my quarters instead."

"What?"

"And you can have ten minutes," he decides. "McCoy out."

* * *

The best defense is a good offense, many people would claim.

Leonard McCoy, chief surgeon and medical officer of the USS Enterprise, is one of them. He enters the transporter room with his shoulders back and his gait unusually arrogant. He says breezily to the staring technician, "Carry on, Lieutenant," and steps right up to the platform like he belongs there.

But he doesn't belong there. He really doesn't.

The only other officer on the transporter pad must know this fact, but he's too busy gaping at McCoy to point it out.

Leonard flips the edge of his upturned cape back into position and strokes his beard.

Chekov, being an impressionable young man, reaches over to tug on it.

Leonard slaps the hand away with "That hurts!"

"It iz real!" exclaims Chekov.

"Very real," the doctor assures him, wincing at the pain. "And itchy."

Inhibitors are easy enough in Leonard's opinion; but growth stimulants, not so much. Especially when one is determined to grow a beard in less than thirty minutes.

Overall, though, he finds that he is extremely pleased with his disguise. Chapel had helped him raid Requisitions for a suitable outfit, one that any modern day trader would wear. She said he looks like a swashbuckling pirate.

"You look like a pirate," Chekov tells him, still in awe. "Ze look iz good."

Leonard beams. "I've heard that before. Thanks."

At last, Chekov displays some hesitation. "But, Doctor, are you supposed to...?"

Leonard shoots a surreptitious glance at the transporter tech to see if she is listening and pointedly lowers his voice. "What about you?" he challenges. "Should _you_ be here—or Sulu?"

Chekov's eyes flash. "I am ze best for zis mission."

Leonard nods upon hearing the expected answer. Chekov has a lot of loyalty to Spock, he knows, since Spock has taken the young man under his wing for special training in the Sciences. "Me too, Pavel. Spock needs us."

That appears to satisfy Chekov as to his partner-in-crime's qualifications. The ensign tells the technician in an eager tone, "Ve are ready. Engage ze transporter."

A moment later the men reform inside Mudd's ship, startling one pilot and few security officers.

Mudd, himself, only looks over the newcomers with aplomb and declares, "Yes, you'll do." He doesn't mention the fact that their designated party of two has gained an extra member.

But the Chief of Security, Giotto, is not so dismissive. His hard stare unnerves the doctor.

Leonard grabs Mudd's arm. "We should go. Where's your shuttle bay?"

"On a ship this small?" Laughter booms across the bridge. "No, no, Dr. McCoy. I have no bay. Only an airlock. Last I checked, my shuttle was attached."

The doctor's stomach turns. "Oh. Will... we all fit?"

"Of course! If the boy here sits on your lap."

Chekov starts forward. "Who iz he calling a boy?"

Giotto starts forward as well.

Leonard makes an executive decision and grabs Chekov with his other hand. Then he hauls both soon-to-be shuttle companions off the crowded bridge at a fast clip, declaring brightly, "Better be on our way 'fore our customers get antsy!"

He has no doubt that Jim is going to learn in the next minute or so from Giotto that the Enterprise is now short one CMO, and he would rather be on a rickety shuttle with a sleazy salesman and an angry Russian plummeting towards a moon than face _that_ particular danger.

Once settled in the shuttlecraft, he sighs and grumbles to himself, "Jim's going to kill me."

In the doctor's lap, the sneering Chekov says ominously, "I have not forgotten ze androids. Vhen do ve take our revenge?"

Mudd is the one who answers, smiling. "Revenge comes in good time, my boy—in good time."

Maybe, Leonard decides after all, facing his captain's wrath would not have been this bad.

* * *

Chekov doesn't complain when Leonard leaves him with the physical labor of moving the crates from the shuttle into the hangar at the edge of the grounds. Chekov mutters something about Mudd, cretins, and Russia, too preoccupied to need much convincing that one person would be less inconspicuous than two in hunting down Spock. Leonard is aware that Chekov's ire has mostly to do with Mudd introducing them to the Aurelian guards as the slow-witted help.

Finding Spock proves much easier than Leonard anticipates. Other than a few strange looks cast in his direction, no one stops him from entering the main hall. And no one seems to care when he deviates from the ballroom to a different wing of the mansion.

When he arrives at the entry to a room that Spock must be in, he hesitates and concludes it would be safer to stick a toe in the doorway than his whole body. After all, who knows what goons and weapons lie in wait on the other side?

This is the point at which he realizes his fencing sword might be more for decoration than protection.

When the movement of the doctor's foot sets off no major catastrophes, he decides to try the doorknob.

The door swings to an eerily empty control center—except for the presence of one person.

A smile breaks across Leonard's face.

Spock doesn't turn around.

Leonard's smile wavers.

Spock still fails to turn around.

"Spock... Psst, Spock!" he hisses.

Why the heck doesn't the Vulcan respond?

Nervous now, Leonard is about to bolt into the room to drag Spock away to a safe corner where he can examine him when the person in question finally shifts to face the doorway. The communicator in Spock's hand emits a high-pitched noise that can only be Jim Kirk in the middle of a rage.

Spock blinks at Leonard for one long second before decisively closing the lid on his communicator.

"Dr. McCoy," he says, "you are not in good favor with the Captain."

Leonard breathes a sigh of relief and eases into the room. "I thought something bad had happened to you. Don't scare me like that!"

"The Captain is quite upset."

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"It appears you did not have permission to accompany Mr. Chekov to the surface... and that Mr. Chekov was not given permission also. This is all that I could determine before his speech became completely insensate."

Leonard moves a little closer to Spock, eyeing him dubiously. "Did anybody mention the part about this being a rescue mission?"

"I inferred that." Spock clips his comm to his belt and folds his hands behind his back.

"Are you upset too?"

Spock only looks at him.

Leonard sighs. "Or do you have something to say to me, Mr. Spock? The desire, perhaps, to call me out for disobeying my captain."

"Negative."

Leonard is surprised. "What?"

"Negative."

That can't be. "Who are you, and what have you done with my Vulcan?"

Spock lifts an eyebrow. "Would a lecture assure you of my identity?"

"Never mind," Leonard says, rocking back on his heels, "it's definitely you."

"Indeed."

Finally at ease, Leonard sidles around Spock for a better look at the room. "I'm really shocked that the security is so lacking around here. How can they let just anybody walk in?"

"This room was well-guarded."

Leonard purses his mouth. "Then what happened to the guards?"

Spock's other eyebrow goes up. "I temporarily disabled them." He indicates a series of blinking lights on a panel. "But this room does have additional security measures. Every ten minutes an alarm must be reset or this area will engage in lockdown and alert other stations to an unauthorized presence. I was able to decipher the code in time to prevent such an event from taking place; however, the code requires manual input."

"In other words, now that you're in here, you can't get out?"

"Essentially, yes."

_Well, crap._ The doctor crosses his arms. "Okay, show me how to work the thing."

"I cannot until the allotted time."

"Then we'll wait." He looks around for somewhere to sit. "Did Jim tell you whose shuttle we commandeered?"

"Affirmative."

"The man's still here. A little jumpy but cooperating. After you show me this code, I want you to take my place on the shuttle and get off this blasted moon."

"Dr. McCoy..."

"That's not an order," Leonard goes on to say, "since clearly I've earned myself immediate discharge from active duty and a future hearing on misconduct. No, it's a plea, Spock, from one friend to another. Jim needs you back on the ship."

Spock watches him for some time, like he has encountered a joke but is not yet certain of the punch line.

Leonard has to look away.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you insist on taking my place, knowing that I voluntarily chose to be here?"

A sarcastic remark wells up but Leonard punches it down. "Spock, I think I gave that answer. You need to be with our captain."

"Why?"

It's becoming more difficult to quell his frustration. "Because you're his First Officer!"

"And you are the ship's Chief Medical Officer."

"I know who I am, believe me," Leonard retorts. "I know where I stand too."

To Leonard's surprise, Spock crosses the distance between them. "If you are implying that your value is not equal to mine, you have not been paying attention."

He waves that remark away. "Yeah, yeah, all life is equal."

"I said 'value', not life."

Leonard's hand stutters along with his brain, making him unable to think up a proper response.

Spock takes one more step forward. "Let me phrase the matter this way, Leonard: do not be heedless of your own worth. As someone who is aware of how valuable you are, you will offend me."

His mouth opens, closes. "Did... did you just threaten me with yourself?"

"In theory."

"How does that work?"

"I believe, once offended, I am required to defend your honor."

Leonard slaps a hand over his mouth but not in time to prevent his laughter from escaping. It takes several tries of clearing his throat to regain his composure. "I'm going to say 'thank you' and let it go at that."

"That would be most appreciated."

Leonard becomes distracted from making a comeback by a warning beep from the control panel with the blinking lights.

Spock moves away. "The code must be entered in precisely twenty-eight seconds."

Leonard observes the Vulcan carefully through the process of disengaging the security alarm. By the end, he says, "It looks simple enough."

Then, after a pause, he adds, "But you aren't going to the shuttle, are you?"

"Negative."

Leonard mutters something uncomplimentary about stubbornness and Vulcans.

Spock's communicator alerts them to an incoming transmission.

Leonard curses under his breath and pleads, "Pretend I'm not here!"

"I should not lie."

"Then sidestep the inquisition. You're good at that."

"To what are you referring?"

"Oh, just answer the damn thing!"

The Vulcan does. "Spock here."

Their captain minces no words. "_Give the communicator to McCoy._"

Leonard waves his hands frantically in a show of _no, don't give it to me!_

"Captain, Dr. McCoy refuses to take the communicator."

There's no need to crank up the volume because Jim's voice grows so loud that the speaker undercuts the words with static.

"_Dr. McCoy, you will return to the Enterprise immediately. In case _that_ order is not clear to you, I want you on Mudd's shuttle and en route to the ship before I count to ten!_"

Spock's eyebrows rise to his hairline. "Jim, that is not possible."

"_One!_"

The Vulcan stares at his communicator, no doubt perturbed that his supposedly genius captain appears to have lost his mind.

"_Two!_"

Leonard snatches the communicator. "All right, all right," he grumps into it, "you've made your point."

Silence. Then, "_Bones, you drive me crazy._"

"Clearly," observes Spock.

Leonard rolls his eyes. "No use in crying over spilled milk, Jim. Why don't you tell us what you want us to do from here?"

"_I knew what I had planned, Bones, then you went and threw me a curve ball._"

"You're tough. You can handle it."

"Gentlemen," Spock interrupts them, "I suggest we dispense with the superfluous comments."

"Ever a party pooper, Spock."

"_Spock, what have you found out about Connors?_"

"Something that I believe will be quite useful. I was able to access the local communications database and find the record of Connors' arrival, which occurred three solar days prior to today. In total, he made four visits to Aurelis. The records indicate the purpose as business and list his arrival and departure vessels as the same D-class freighter. I have evidence that he did bring multiple shipments of wine, supposedly for this event, which leads me to conclude that it was imperative he maintained his ruse as a wine trader. This was likely to hide his true purpose from the Governor and her faction, but that is pure speculation and not fact."

"At least the Romulans aren't fools," Leonard mutters.

"_What else?_"

"A fact of which you can make use, Captain. I ran the freighter's registration marker against all known vessels in the area. It is still in orbit from the last rendezvous."

"_Scotty_," Kirk barks, "_retrieve that list! Spock, what was the registration number?_"

Spock recites it obediently.

Leonard brings the communicator closer to his chest, surreptitiously tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth. He isn't disappointed, for soon after Kirk makes a noise of triumph.

"_Thank you, Mr. Spock. We'll take it from here._"

"Jim, be careful. Even if there's another ship on its way here for the exchange, I'd bet a month's salary somebody else on that freighter is either Romulan or knows about them."

"_I'm counting on it, Bones_."

"Just keep in mind I'm not around to give you pointy ears this time."

"_I don't intend to play a Romulan._" The communicator sound fizzles out for a moment, then returns. "_...Spock?_"

"Yes, Jim?"

"_Do I need to tell you what your main priority is?_"

"Negative."

"_Good. Bones, I feel like a broken record here but stay out of trouble._"

"I'll do my best, Captain."

"_Sulu, alter our course to parallel that ship. Spock, McCoy..._" The sound goes out again, causing Spock to reach for the communicator. "_...Kirk out._"

Leonard gladly hands the device back to Spock. "I'm guessing by 'main priority' he means he wants us both back on the ship safely."

Spock busies himself with turning the frequency dial. "Your main priority would be your safety, Doctor."

Leonard blinks. "Okay... and yours?"

"It is also." The reply is much too vague for someone who is normally straightforward.

Leonard resists the urge to scratch his head (or his beard, since it still itches) and lets that go. "If we leave as soon as we enter the code, could we make it to the shuttlecraft in ten minutes?"

Spock apparently gives up on the communicator and reattaches it to his belt. "The most direct route would take us through the ballroom and require approximately eleven minutes and thirty-two seconds to reach the shuttle hangar."

"Meaning, even if we don't encounter delays along the way, the Aurelians will have time to react."

"Unfortunately."

Leonard squares his shoulders. "I say we do it anyway."

"Based on what reasoning?"

He flaps his cape. "That I feel like a real pirate in this get-up."

"Dr. McCoy, that is the most illogical remark you have made over the course of our acquaintance, and you have made many of them."

"Oh, bah. You're just jealous of my beard."

"I do not see how one could experience jealousy over facial hair."

"You take all the fun out of these conversations, hobgoblin."

Spock ignores that in lieu of turning his attention to the control panel.

Leonard joins him. "You do agree that we should try get off this moon as soon as possible, don't you?"

"Where is Mr. Chekov?"

"I told him to stay with Mudd. The last thing we need is that man double-crossing us for a few extra credits." He pulls his tricorder around to his front by the strap. "I'm tracking Chekov's bio-signature. This thing says he is still where I left him, thank god."

"I presume the tracking program is how you found me."

"Of course. I'm a doctor, not a psychic."

"We have exactly three minutes before the reset." Spock pauses. "In the event that our attempt to escape is foiled, you must not allow yourself to be captured."

"Well I certainly don't have a death wish. The three of us can hide together until Jim finds a way to retrieve us."

A short silence ensues.

Then Spock says, almost tentatively, "Doctor, there is one question I would ask of you, for I find myself at a crossroads, unable to make a decision."

"We have a little time left, so shoot."

"You placed yourself in jeopardy knowing the negative effect it would have on the Captain. Why?"

In another time and place he might have retorted, _I could ask the same thing of you,_ but there is no urge to do so now.

Leonard only wants to speak the truth. "No one wants to live in a glass house, Spock, not if we've chosen the business of risk. I know it hurts Jim to lose people. You and I both know it, have seen what it does to him, probably more thoroughly than anyone else. But having an emotional attachment will always be a double-edged sword. It means you can easily justify hurting the one you care about in order to protect him. Jim has been denying my offer to help from the beginning for this exact reason, just as you may recall I denied his need to protect _me_ so I could stay here to protect _him._"

"An interesting philosophical quandary."

"But does it make sense?"

"Regrettably so."

Leonard sighs. "I don't know, Spock. Maybe you Vulcans have it right. Caring too strongly makes a sane person lose his sense. Or in this case, his sense of self-preservation."

"Vulcans are not immune to such fallacies."

A slight smile touches the doctor's face. "I know. You've proven that many times, enough to give me heart palpitations whenever you and Jim go off on a mission without me."

"Would this be why you assign yourself to landing parties that do not require the presence of the CMO?"

"If you want someone to blame for that, you and Jim are the ones who have to approve the participation."

"Then perhaps, given our close association with one another, we should require a third party approval to negate the conflict of interest." The control panel beeps.

Leonard locks his hands behind his back, nearly to the point of bouncing on the balls of his feet. He teases, "Why, Spock, if I didn't know better, I'd think you just admitted that you like me!"

"On the contrary, it is you who likes me, Doctor. You said so yourself." Spock finishes inputting the code.

Leonard's heels come down hard on the ground. "Didn't I take that back?"

Spock inclines his head. "There are, I believe, no 'takesies backsies' when it comes to emotional confessions."

At the tail end of that statement, the Vulcan drifts away to the door.

"Now hold on! What emotion?!" Leonard cries, catching up to him. "Damn it, you green-blooded nuisance, you can't have the last word!"

To the officers' utter surprise, the door opens before they reach it—and the Governor of Aurelis smiles at them from the other side.

"So," she says, her tone pleasant despite the unsheathed saber in her hand, "this is where my honored guest has been hiding."

Spock reaches back without looking to take hold of Leonard's arm.

"At this time," Leonard hears him murmur, "it is advisable to run."


	5. Part Four

**Part Four**

In Leonard's experience, when things go wrong, they don't go a little bit wrong, which can be shrugged off or quickly corrected. No, things go horribly, end-of-the-universe wrong.

This thought slips past a myriad of others, all too briefly acknowledged. He had said to Jim to forego 'crying over spilled milk', but right now Leonard wants to do nothing more than cry—and rage. He doesn't remember a time when he has been bombarded by both emotions so strongly at the same time.

The person responsible for his turmoil doesn't seem to care in the least.

Leonard adjusts the angle of Spock's head in his lap and glares at the Governor as she idly cleans green blood from her saber.

"You'll pay for this," he says. "I'm not going to leave you alone!"

"Surely you know that if your Vulcan cannot stand against me, then you have no chance."

"You're vile," he keeps going, heedless of the way his adversary stiffens. "If this is how your people operate, then you don't deserve compassion or respect, or even a simple 'how do you do' from our Federation."

"Is that so?"

It makes him feel better to lash out with a few other derogatory insults.

The pointed tip of the saber comes to rest just under the doctor's chin. "You would be wise to hold your tongue unless you have a keen desire to have it removed."

He lifts his chin, causing the blade to draw a thin red line across his neck, and challenges, "Go ahead."

The Aurelian smiles and lowers her saber. "Very good. I have no use for cowards."

His arm tightens protectively around Spock's upper torso. The fabric of the Vulcan's formal blue tunic has become soaked with blood, and so the hand Leonard has pressed to the Spock's abdomen slips slightly out of place. It reminds him that he is woefully ill-equipped to treat the wound.

Swallowing down disgust, he tells her, "I need medical supplies. He'll die unless I can stop the bleeding."

The Governor sheathes her weapon. "Ah, but I am too vile a creature to care, Doctor."

"If you kill a Starfleet officer, our ships will never grace this sector out of goodwill again."

Her look implies she would consider that outcome to be more than ideal.

Leonard adds the kicker. "But if you kill Ambassador Sarek's son, you can rest assured he will eliminate every avenue of support you've ever had or could have, whether it is Federation-funded or not."

The amused glint in her eyes turns to something more ruthless and far shrewder. "I do not care for threats, Dr. McCoy."

"That's not a threat. It's the truth."

The Governor studies Leonard in silence, her expression calculating until it unexpectedly shutters. "You have made your point." She signals two guards to come forward, ordering, "Carry the Commander to our healing rooms."

Leonard loathes the idea of handing over Spock to their enemy but he knows that on his own he cannot physically bear the weight of the unconscious Vulcan for more than a few steps.

"Be careful!" he snaps when one of the guards jerks Spock up by the shoulders.

Rising, he hurries after Aurelians bearing his friend away, only to find himself waylaid by two more officers, who refuse him passage.

Trying to push through them is like trying to move a brick wall. He scolds them, "What're you doing? Move!"

The Governor comes abreast of their group with her hands locked behind her back and her countenance disturbingly calm. "Your Vulcan will be well-cared for by my personal physician. However, I am afraid you must stay here as I still require a guest—" Her mouth curves into a wicked smile. "—and my previous one has been indisposed."

His mouth opens but no sounds issue forth, so appalled is the doctor by the Aurelian's audacity to joke. "Have you lost your mind? That man could die!"

"I have you to replace him," she replies as though no explanation could be more logical.

He steps into the Governor's personal space, only to have someone jerk him back and place a sword against his throat in warning.

He is too far beyond infuriated to care about the bite of the blade. "You're no better than your husband or your nephew. You're selfish and cold-blooded. I _hope_ you get deposed because from what I have seen, you are a detriment to everything good and decent this world and these people could be."

"Have you not come to understand us yet, Doctor?" she challenges. "I am what my people require of me—and if not I, then someone colder, crueler would rule." She dismisses him in the next breath as a fool. "Your Federation's ideals are not ours and never shall be."

"Then God help Aurelis. You have a long road ahead of you."

She moves away. "It is time I spoke with the Captain. I daresay he will be shocked to learn of what has transpired here. Bring the human."

The Aurelian with the sword to Leonard's throat removes his blade but none-too-gently takes a hold of Leonard's arm and forces him to follow in the Governor's wake.

* * *

Plenty of mistakes have been made since the beginning of the Gala but none more so, Leonard thinks, than his willingness to become involved in this dangerous game with the Aurelians. He barely remembers how it all started, with an overheard conversation and an angry reaction to learning his purpose at the party had been superfluous.

The truth is, if he could go back and change the past, he would. He would stop this whole mess from happening. He would accept his disillusionment with silence, and he would pretend to be utterly clueless when accosted by that unpleasant Aurelian. Anything, in retrospect, to prevent ending up where he is now: utterly useless and in the hands of Spock's would-be murderer.

How had he not realized he truly was a liability on this mission? Little wonder that Jim had never felt easy about including him.

_I should have stayed on the ship,_ his brain plays in a loop. _I should have protected Spock better. I shouldn't have been a jealous idiot._

And so, with no small amount of heartache, he looks into the eyes of his captain on the view-screen and utters, "Jim, I'm sorry."

White-lipped, silent, Jim simply stares back at him.

"I respectfully resign my commission as Chief Medical Officer aboard the Enterprise," Leonard concludes. Resigning is the only thing he can do to relieve Kirk of some of the responsibility.

"Interesting," the Governor muses from her high-backed chair beside which the doctor stands, his shoulders drooping in dejection. "I suppose your doctor is to become a permanent guest on Aurelis, Captain Kirk—for a short period at any rate. Unfortunately, I see no further use for him now that he has disavowed himself of your Starfleet." She beckons an Aurelian officer to her side. "Remove this human to the prisoners' ward and contact my chamberlain about scheduling an early morning execution."

Kirk nearly comes out of his chair, then, but a moment later, though his arms are not quite steady as the rest of him, he eases back into his seat.

His voice, when it comes, is hardly indicative of any emotion other than detachment: "Governor, if there is something I might say to change your mind..."

"There isn't," she confirms.

"Very well," Kirk replies flatly. "I'll contact you when I have more information on the Romulans." The jerk of his hand to close the channel is like the damning arch of an executioner's sword.

The screen goes dark.

Leonard nearly falls into the side of the Governor's chair, his legs having suddenly decided they cannot support him.

"Yes, quite interesting," the leader of Aurelis muses again.

"He blames me," Leonard whispers. The others in the room look at him curiously, but he can hardly bother to think of them now, not when the truth is so plain. He shades part of his face with one hand. "I've killed Spock, and he blames me."

"What a pity," he hears his captor say. "You are weak after all."

The Governor couldn't possibly understand what Kirk's lack of argument means. And he doubts she would care even if she did.

His throat constricts until he is unable to protest through the smallest of noises when the officer draws him away from the chair and into an outer corridor, presumably to escort him to a prison cell for the few remaining hours he has left to live. He lets himself be led without complaint, swamped by his grief, until a faint thought prompts him to stir from his unresponsive state.

"The Vulcan," he murmurs, glancing over at the tall, stone-faced Aurelian marching him along. "Can I see him?"

Not even a facial tick acknowledges that Leonard has spoken. He tries again, this time his voice a little strong and much less polite. Still, no response is forthcoming.

Drawing a breath, the man plants his feet.

"Look here, I don't care about your orders. I want to see my friend _now_."

A flicker of emotion finally crosses the guard's face: it is displeasure at being ordered by a prisoner.

"You heard me," Leonard insists.

"Yes," comes the clipped reply—after which Leonard is swatted into the nearest hard surface as punishment.

At the same time Leonard chokes on a cry when his shoulder connects painfully with the wall, fury sparks in his belly. Buoyed by more determination than ever and a great dislike for bullying, Leonard faces down his guard.

"Try that again, I dare you!"

The Aurelian lifts his hand to deliver a second blow.

The blow never lands, for a cry of "_Doctor!_" disturbs the scene, its accent quite unmistakable. Leonard flattens himself to the side just in the nick of time as Chekov, pelting down the corridor, takes aim with a phaser and fires.

The Aurelian drops to the ground, stunned into unconsciousness.

"Pavel!" Leonard exclaims, surprised but relieved. "Boy am I glad to—"

The young man unceremoniously shoves a communicator into McCoy's hands before doubling over at the waist and panting. His stilted speech doesn't make a lot of sense: "F-Found...Doctor...K-Keptin..."

"_Bones!_"

Leonard blinks at the device in disbelief. "...Jim?"

"_Abandon mission!_" The plea crackles urgently through the speaker. "_Do you hear me? Abandon the mission!_"

Leonard cradles the communicator, a lump lodging itself again in his throat. "Jim... Spock is... I can't." He needs a moment of breathing in and out to regain some coherency. "I'm sorry, Captain. I'm not leaving without Spock."

"Ve're not," Chekov amends, his voice impassioned.

They have all heard Jim swear in Klingon a handful of times before, but never with such viciousness.

"_Steady there, lads!_" Suddenly Scotty comes through on the line, sounding even more frazzled than Kirk. "_Doctor, whatever ye have to do, do it fast. The Capt'n—we cannae hold 'im for long!_"

Chekov's eyes go wide. "Vat iz going on up zere?"

Leonard would like to know that too but Spock, wherever he is, is losing precious seconds the longer they linger to talk. "I hear you, Scotty. Stand by. McCoy out."

He tosses the communicator back to Chekov and yanks his tricorder around to his front. "Give me a second, Pavel. I have a way to find Spock." A burst of giddy relief fills him when the tricorder beeps with confirmation of a signal. "He's still alive, thank god!"

"Vhich direction?" Chekov wants to know, anxiously scanning the hall.

Leonard points the way he and the Aurelian were headed. "That way."

Then the two men are running, heedless of what may lie in their path.

* * *

If the Aurelians in the healing chambers are shocked by the appearance of two dubious-looking individuals, none of them verbalize their surprise beyond ceasing their activities. Leonard demands of the first person he sees, "Where is he?"

The Aurelian appears to be the oldest of the group by many years and is the only one robed in black. He answers the question solemnly with "Whom do you seek?"

When another Aurelian, a young male in pale gray, edges toward the archway as if he intends to flee, Chekov lifts his phaser and warns everyone, "No one move."

"Chekov," Leonard begins, frowning.

"Sorry, Doctor, but ve cannot be caught."

Leonard swallows his argument because Chekov is right. "We're not here to hurt anyone," he assures the elder. "Just take us to Spock—the Vulcan. He was brought in with an injury to his midsection."

The Aurelian inclines his head in understanding but then looks pointedly to their phaser. "No weapons are allowed around my patients." He doesn't wait for a reply, moving on to another room.

Leonard tells Chekov, "Stay here."

"Yes, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard hurries to catch up to the physician and asks, "How is he?"

"Clearly you wish to judge his state for yourself."

The Aurelian winds through two rooms and short hall before pausing in front of a red silk curtain. Beyond the curtain is a sparsely decorated room with one tall cabinet and a narrow dresser against the walls, and a bed with a standing basin by its head. Shadows eat up the corners and the edges of the chamber, a result of the handful of burning candles littering the surface of the dresser. Spock lies motionless in the center of it all, on the bed, his hands locked across his chest as if he had just recently lain down to rest.

Leonard enters, feeling like he has come to the wake of a dear friend. Luckily, his tricorder dispels that vision with a much more promising truth.

"Blood pressure lower than usual," he murmurs, twisting his dial for secondary readings.

Overall, he can tell that Spock's vitals have improved significantly in a short period of time. Relief makes him lightheaded. He tucks his tricorder to his side and reaches down to brush back Spock's bangs, only remembering at the last second that he normally doesn't touch Spock with such casualness.

The incongruence of the urge to do just that against the knowledge that he shouldn't strikes him hard. "Must be out of my mind," he mutters to himself and instead sits at the bed's edge.

Spock's tunic has been removed and folded by the basin. A thin layer of gauze, serving as the bandage around his midsection, is immaculately clean. Leonard doesn't dare inspect under the wrapping lest the wound be disturbed and settles for running his tricorder over the affected area.

"Whatever you did," he observes aloud for the Aurelian's benefit, "is working well. I've never seen him heal this fast and, believe me, a Vulcan's healing rate is phenomenal compared to most species."

"You are a physician." It isn't a question.

Leonard nods anyway before adding a touch grimly, "But I'm also the fool who didn't bring his medkit on a dangerous mission." He winces immediately after speaking, realizing the error of his admission.

But the healer appears to have no interest in such affairs, only remarking, "Can you explain why he has not awoken despite receiving treatment? I fear I have done harm to his body, though the methods we use in general should not hinder one's recovery."

Leonard would love to ask questions about Aurelian medicine because so far no one in the Federation has been allowed to study it. It is with some regret that he subdues his curiosity.

"Vulcans enter a fugue state in order to minimize unnecessary energy expenditure and focus on the internal healing of their injuries. It's very difficult to bring them out of it. There's a trick." He lifts his hand and says, "Don't be alarmed," just before he delivers a resounding slap to the side of Spock's face.

"Spock," he calls, "wake up," and slaps the Vulcan again.

The elder, now standing at Leonard's side and watching him curiously, tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robe.

Leonard spares a glance for his tricorder, noting that the spike in the vitals is a positive sign. "Once more should be enough," he says.

He delivers the last blow with an insistent "Time to wake up, you green-blooded hobgoblin!"

"Enough," comes a hoarse whisper. The Vulcan's eyes remain closed. "I am aware."

"Good." When Spock begins to shift his limbs on the bed, testing them, Leonard presses a hand firmly to one shoulder to keep him down. "Don't move just yet."

"...Dr. McCoy?"

"The one and only."

Spock opens his eyes.

Leonard allows him a moment to get his bearings before asking, "Do you remember what happened?"

"...Affirmative."

Without warning, one of Spock's hands rise from his chest to touch the side of the doctor's neck.

"You... are injured?" Spock says, his voice slowly changing from roughened to inquiring to tense.

Leonard finds the scratch with his own fingers. "What, this? It's hardly anything." He points to the Vulcan's abdomen. "You're the one with the hole in your stomach, or whatever organ you've got there at the moment."

"Illogical," counters Spock, some of his tension visibly evaporating. "My organs are not in the habit of migrating."

Leonard smiles happily. "So you _are_ all right."

Spock's hand withdraws—only to briefly climb higher to Leonard's cheek. "And this," is his soft remark, "comes from the Governor, I presume."

Leonard hadn't realized his cheek was bruised. "No, but Chekov took care the unfriendly brute."

Spock's gaze wanders past him, perhaps seeking the man in question, and lights upon the Aurelian.

"Don't worry," Leonard assures his friend. "Chekov is close by, guarding the door so to speak."

"This is the medical ward of the compound."

"You got yourself into a scrape." Leonard's hands slide away from Spock. "Who told you could do that, by the way? She was aiming for me."

"Your concern, while unnecessary, is appreciated."

Leonard harrumphs. "That wasn't concern just now, you confused sot. I'm upset at you."

"An emotion which stems directly from concern."

Oh, why does he even bother? "Forget it."

"I already have." Spock tries to sit up again.

"Stop that! Would you listen to me for once? My god, what is the use in me being your doctor if you don't _listen?_"

"Clearly you are not here with the blessing of the Governor. We must not waste this opportunity and proceed with expediency to the shuttlecraft."

_Saints above, why is Spock so stubborn?_ "You're not proceeding anywhere! You've been _stabbed_. Now you may be perfectly willing to ignore the ramifications of that little fact, but _I_ won't. You need time to recover."

"There is no time, Doctor. That is my point. Lingering only increases the likelihood of our capture."

Without Jim to back him up, Leonard feels at sea. "Spock, damn it..."

"If I agree to three days in Sickbay, will you cease to argue with me and follow my direction?"

Leonard sits back, astonished. Spock has never tried to bargain with him before.

"There is another way," the third occupant of the room interjects while Leonard is trying to untangle an answer in his head.

Spock and McCoy turn to the physician with Spock inquiring, "What is your suggestion?"

"Under a pretense of your demise, you would have more time to escape."

The Vulcan's dark eyes remain fixed upon the Aurelian even as he concedes to McCoy, "It is not impossible."

"It's mad!"

"On the contrary, it would give us an advantage." Spock's gaze flicks over to Leonard, sharper than before. "Where does the Governor believe to you to be, Dr. McCoy?"

Leonard mumbles his response.

Spock concludes, "Then if I am dead, you are imprisoned, and Chekov's presence remains unknown, we do have a greater chance of success. However, there is one troubling aspect to this proposal—" His gaze pins the Aurelian again. "—and that is the dependence on your agreement to deceive your leader, for which I can determine no logical motivation."

"My motivation is uncomplicated, Vulcan. I wish to preserve your life. Once you are sufficiently healed, you are to be arrested for treason and publicly executed."

Leonard spits out a curse. "Is that how it works on your planet? You agree to heal somebody just to send him to his death?"

Spock's eyebrows have drawn together. "An explanation can be too simple."

"Who cares?" Leonard decides. "I'll be damned if I let you get hurt again, Spock." He stares hard at the Aurelian and says, "Your plan had better work."

"Doctor," Spock says sharply.

"Shut up, Spock," Leonard tells his Vulcan in a no-nonsense tone, "and play dead."

* * *

"Doctor, vat are you doing?"

"I'm not as much of a fool as Spock thinks I am," Leonard whispers back to Chekov. "We're going to listen in."

If Chekov had been anyone else, there might have been a protest about the dangers of eavesdropping (and subsequently getting caught), but something he and Pavel have in common is that they are often much too stubborn to care a lick about danger. Chekov holds up his phaser and decides, "You vill lead. I vill shoot."

The medical ward is a confusing warren of rooms, all of which utilize curtains instead of doors. The color and design of the fabric has a significance but Leonard has had little time to ponder what each combination might mean or why they become more intricate the deeper into the ward they go. He does know that the upside to the lack of doors is the ease of access, though there is a certain fear and titillation that comes with drawing back a curtain.

Backtracking from their hideaway to Spock's chamber proves easier than expected because they can dismiss any curtain that isn't red and are able to avoid a pair of sentries in one hallway by slipping into an unoccupied green-curtained chamber and exit through the opposite side. Once they cut across an antechamber that looks too much like a medieval version of an operating room, Leonard spies the plain red curtain they have been searching for. He and Pavel press themselves to the wall beside the covered archway and lean in to listen.

The curtain barely muffles the voices within. Recognizing the Governor, Leonard presses his fingers into the polished stone at his back, hoping to quell his anxiety that Spock, however amazing at playing dead, will be found out.

Her tone is sharp, questioning. "Are you certain?"

"I am, Your Ladyship. The Vulcan's body rejected each medicine I tried. He could not be saved."

"I am greatly displeased to hear such news."

"This humble Servant begs your forgiveness."

It doesn't sound like the healer is actually begging, more like he is offering a ritual of words.

"I shall think upon your punishment, Master Healer."

"Her Ladyship is kind and merciful. This humble Servant will accept Her punishment."

"Creepy," Chekov mutters in Leonard's ear.

Leonard couldn't agree more. It surprises him that the Governor has not ordered her physician to be openly flogged for letting one of her bargaining chips with the Federation die.

It is even more surprising when her Master Healer makes the request, "May I speak freely, Your Ladyship?" and she replies, "I welcome it."

"Has the Consort not satisfied the conditions for the Joining?"

"There have been two deaths," is the guarded response, "with one yet unfulfilled."

"I see... Then Your Ladyship must feel he is not worthy of her."

"What is your point?"

"Has the Consort not risked much for our future? To involve offworlders in this ancestral rite... it has never been done."

The Governor sounds irritated. "If you wish to speak, Master Healer, do so plainly. I have no desire in this moment to converse in riddles."

"Very well. Taya, I have served four generations of the honored Family—"

Leonard starts. Just how old is this Aurelian?

"—and you are the greatest among them. Still, the time is coming. You may not have had the choosing of your husband but this does not negate his skills. They are without equal, and his desire for you remains strong."

"Of this, I am aware."

"Then accept him. Finish the Joining together and allow him the honor of siring the Heir."

There is a brief silence. Then McCoy and Chekov hear the rustle of fabric and the scrape of steel escaping leather.

"Your Ladyship?"

"You have betrayed me, Master Healer. I see that you have chosen a side—my husband's. Tell me, why should I not part your head from your shoulders for such insolence?"

"So that you might better understand why he dares to enact the rite with these peculiar opponents. He knows you require the challenge. But," the elder Aurelian demurs, "if you cannot heed my words, then perhaps you will heed his."

Upon hearing this, Leonard dares to peek past the edge of the curtain and, in doing so, nearly chokes on his own spit when the Governor's husband enters the chamber in the company of two Aurelians dressed in nondescript uniforms.

"Vat is it?" Chekov whispers, eyes wide.

"I think it's a double-cross," he answers. "What in blazes is going _on_ with these people?"

Chekov tenses and raises his phaser hand.

"Not yet," Leonard warns. "Spock would be in the crossfire." Plus, he wants to find out the exact nature of the deceptions headed by the warring factions of the Aurelians. His gut tells him the answer is something he should not want to miss.

The Consort kneels at the Governor's feet and greets her as "My Lovely One."

The Governor says nothing. Nor does she remove her blade from the Master Healer's throat.

"I beg for an audience."

"Be quick, for your mere presence tests my patience, Husband."

But instead of admitting to any nefarious deeds or betrayal, the Consort inquires, "What shall happen to the body of the Vulcan?"

"I am undecided."

"Understandable, Lovely One. Your next move must seem a precarious one."

The target of the Governor's saber changes in one graceful swoop from physician to husband. "Do you dare insult me?"

"I would die upon my sword first," vows her husband, sounding shockingly sincere. "I merely seek to advise you."

Again, she falls silent.

Her silence seems to be taken by the Consort as tacit permission to continue. "Let the Romulans bear the blame. Already you have given the dead Romulan to their enemy."

She questions, "Is this how you seek to win my favor, then? By turning them upon each other so that they would soon forget us?"

"I serve my Ladyship's Will, which is that her people should never become subject to another's Will other than her own."

At last, the saber lowers. "Two have died. Who would you choose as the third and final death of our Joining?"

When the Consort lifts his head, his eyes are gleaming. "Is that not obvious, Lovely One?"

The Governor's mouth curves, mirroring his wickedness. "A pity that Jorval did not have sufficient potential."

"But how appropriate and pleasing a sacrifice to consummate our marriage," finishes her husband, rising to his feet.

"My god," Leonard whispers.

"She iz going to kill her own family?" echoes Chekov, equally appalled.

But it's so much more than that, Leonard surmises silently. "Pavel, the Captain has to know this."

"Agreed." Chekov pats the communicator attached to his belt with his free hand.

Leonard watches the scene for a moment longer.

The Governor closes the distance separating her from her spouse and places a hand upon the center of his chest. "Your ploy has proved most cunning, Husband. I am pleased with you."

Her husband in turn covers her hand with his own. "As I am also pleased to have challenged you to your satisfaction."

The Master Healer bows before the couple, as do the guards. "The people will rejoice to hear of the success of your union," he announces.

"The celebration will follow the completion of the Joining. Prepare the Vulcan for transport," the Governor orders. "Husband, tell me, what does my nephew expect to receive from the Romulans?"

"Advanced weaponry which the Romulans have convinced him will force your surrender."

"The fool. He has forsaken tradition beyond forgiveness." There comes a pause, and then, "The Starfleet Captain seems the worthier opponent, but he has a weakness which can be used to our advantage."

She unpins a device from her sword belt to give to her husband, and Leonard's heart skips a beat when he sees what it is.

The Consort inspects it briefly. "This is one of the communication devices used by the Federation."

"It belonged to the Vulcan. The human physician has escaped. Use it to find him, and then you will know how to exploit Kirk's weakness."

Leonard has heard more than enough. He signals Chekov to back up at the same time that the Consort offers his arm to the Governor as an escort and questions, "Shall we conclude the Gala, Lovely One, and prepare for the morrow's work?"

McCoy and Chekov slip away unseen as the Governor replies, "We shall."

* * *

Back in the small room they were to hide in, Leonard rubs a finger against his lower lip in thought while his companion wants to know, "Vat now?"

"We wait to be fetched, and then we find a way to get ourselves the heck out of here."

He feels like he just fell down a rabbit hole. His mind is spinning with the depth of the Aurelians' conspiracy. Simple Moon Gala, indeed!

He beckons Pavel closer. "Keep a lookout and hand me that communicator."

Praying to every deity he can think of, Leonard contacts the Enterprise.

Someone, it seems, is finally on his side. "_Dr. McCoy, thank the saints!_"

"I've been thanking them too, Scotty. Listen, this is urgent. I need to speak to Jim right away."

"_I'm afraid I have some bad news, Doctor. The Capt'n's left the ship._"

If Leonard had Vulcan strength, the communicator would have shattered in his hand. "What!"

Chekov looks just as flabbergasted, peering quickly from Leonard to their curtained archway and back again as if he cannot make up his mind which of the two requires his attention more.

"_He managed to give my lads the slip and beamed himself over to that freighter Mr. Spock discovered. I'm near to pullin' out my hair with worry! I dinnae know what he's thinkin'!_"

Leonard can't figure it out either. "Maybe Spock does." Heck, the two of them have mind-melded enough times that Spock ought to know Jim's thoughts as clearly as his own.

"_Is the Commander all right?_" the engineer asks anxiously.

"In better shape than he should be. Scotty, we found out that the exchange with the Romulans is a ruse."

"_...I cannae of heard you correctly, Doctor. Did you say a ruse?_"

"I did. It's a setup, for both us and the Romulans."

Apparently Scotty can curse in Klingon too. "_Whatever for?_"

"Something to do with the Governor consummating her marriage with her Consort. Don't ask me for details. Their marriage rites sound more convoluted than Vulcan ones, and I've seen how convoluted the Vulcans do theirs."

"_You have?_" Scotty and Chekov echo at the same time.

Whoops. He shouldn't have said that. He and Jim went to great lengths to protect Spock's privacy over the whole pon farr debacle. He has never written an official report so sparse with details as that one.

Scotty clears his throat, thankfully bringing them back on track. "_Then the Capt'n..._"

"Has no idea the Aurelians want us to tangle with the Romulans over something that doesn't really matter to them," Leonard finishes grimly.

Scotty expresses his thoughts on that by declaring, "_I need a drink._"

"I'll buy."

A sigh filters through the speaker. "_Best we can do is keep trying to hail the freighter and hope the Capt'n answers, Doctor. I'm afraid we cannae get any closer than we are, for if there's anything I know about Romulans it's that they'll open fire 'fore they decide to ask why._"

Damn, damn, and damn. The situation is looking worse by the minute. How could Jim be so reckless? He's never just abandoned his ship like that before!

Chekov interrupts McCoy's train of thought with a hiss of "I think zey're coming, Doctor."

"Scotty, gotta go. We're leaving our communicator behind. It's been compromised."

"_Do you have any good news at all?_"

"Not really. We'll try to reach Mudd's shuttle. If we make it, we'll contact you again."

"_Good luck._"

"Thanks. McCoy out."

Leonard closes the device and looks at it with the briefest touch of regret before he places it aside on a table. He doesn't do that a moment too soon, for the Governor's physician draws back the curtain and enters their chamber.

"The Governor is convinced the Vulcan is dead. If you wish to leave, now is the time."

Leonard asks as innocently as he can, "Won't they have plans for the body?"

"I will delay the preparations."

"Why?"

The Aurelian falls silent.

The side of Chekov's mouth starts to curl in a distrusting sneer, but Leonard prods him none-too-gently in the ribs as a reminder to play his part.

"Why?" Leonard repeats.

"No more deaths are required," the Aurelian replies at last, "and it is my belief that life should not be wasted carelessly."

If he didn't know better, Leonard might have assumed this being had taken a similar oath to his own as a medical officer. Now he understands that the reasoning has little do with any charity for others. The objective for the physician is to preserve the rite currently in progress and to prevent a litter of dead bodies from compromising the result of their game.

He smiles as if he is in agreement. "We are grateful for your help. Please take us to our friend now."

Chekov follows McCoy's lead in silence, and for once it is Leonard and his team who find themselves in the position of the deceivers rather than the deceived.

* * *

At the sight of three Starfleet officers hurrying towards him across the hangar, Mudd's eyes grow large. McCoy keeps his arm secured around Spock's waist (who cares if the Vulcan claims not to need the support?) and Chekov is striding just slightly ahead of them, looking both trigger-happy and extremely disappointed that no one has crossed his path as of yet.

"Mr. Spock," Mudd babbles, flushing, "what an unexpected surprise! You look... unusually greener. Was this a rescue mission? I had no idea!"

When Spock doesn't deign to respond, Leonard ducks his head to hide his smirk.

"Vhy iz ze shuttle door closed?" Chekov asks with suspicion, turning his phaser on their pilot.

"My dear boy, how was I to know when you would return?" Mudd places a hand to his chest in true dramatic fashion. "I thought I had been abandoned!"

Chekov takes one menacing step forward. "I am not a boy."

"Pavel, help me with Spock."

The man clearly suffers a second of indecision before he grudgingly turns away from Mudd and takes Spock's weight from McCoy.

"Do you have a medkit inside?" Leonard asks, hurrying to the shuttle ramp.

The trader gives a strange little laugh and tugs at one end of his moustache. "Certainly I do, Dr. McCoy. Certainly. Let me get it for you!"

When the shuttle's inner hatch releases, Mudd scuttles inside the craft like a crab bolting into its burrow at high tide.

Frowning, Leonard climbs the ramp. He has one boot on the foot rail when Mudd pops his head out of the hatch and tosses a medkit at Leonard's chest.

"I am not a man without a conscience," Mudd claims loudly before disappearing again.

In the trader's stead, another figure comes forward, separating from the darkened interior of the craft to stand in the hatchway.

Leonard loses his footing in shock and takes a tumble to the bottom of the ramp.

"Dr. McCoy!" he hears Pavel cry.

The person who steps onto the ramp has a nasty little smile and triumph in his cold, silver eyes. "Greetings, Doctor," he says. "Such a delight to meet you again. I did not realize you humans were so fond of disguises. The beard almost makes you unrecognizable."

The shuttle hatch snaps shut and locks. The ramp retracts, and engine thrusters light up along the bottom edge of the craft. The shuttle begins its wobbly ascent from the hangar.

Suddenly Chekov and Spock are there, picking Leonard up off the ground and dragging him clear so he isn't incinerated in the backlash of the thrusters reaching full power.

Jorval follows them at a more leisurely pace. From the corners of his eyes, Leonard sees why: Aurelian security officers, dressed as if for parade, file into the hangar.

Chekov shouts angrily after the shuttle as it blasts off skyward through the Dome. Leonard can only think to bleat, "That weasel."

"It appears Mr. Mudd has not changed," Spock murmurs, tightening his grip on Leonard's arm and drawing the doctor closer to his side.

Chekov takes aim at Jorval.

"Don't bother," the Aurelian says, raising his hand. The ring of a dozen swords unsheathing echoes off the walls. "You cannot neutralize us all before you are killed."

"Ensign," Spock orders, "place your weapon on the ground."

Despite his evident dismay, Chekov obeys.

Spock then says, "We surrender."

"How very wise of you." Jorval points to Spock and Chekov. "Remove these two to the holding cells for questioning." He advances on McCoy. "I will interrogate this trespasser personally."

Leonard pushes in front of Spock, already aware that Spock will refuse to yield ground in order to shield him. He has no desire to watch a blade pierce his Vulcan friend a second time.

"We definitely have something to talk about," he agrees with the Governor's nephew, "but in case you were wondering, your liaison with the Romulans is quite a poorly kept secret."

Jorval grabs him by the neck, but Spock is quick to react, grabbing Jorval's wrist. Leonard surmises that the Vulcan's grip must be the more painful of the two because Jorval hisses between his teeth.

Eventually Jorval releases Leonard, and Leonard scowls, rubbing at his throat in distraction. He takes note that Chekov, though blocked on all sides by armed men, is still unharmed.

"Let's have that talk," he says again to Jorval. "You might be interested in what I have to say."

"And why would you think that, human?"

Leonard smiles humorlessly at the fool. "Because I am going to save your life."

* * *

**TBC, but not for a while. I'm on vacation next week (it's my birthday treat to myself, yay!) so the final part - yes, the final one - will follow after that. Until then... imagine what Kirk must be up to, lol.**


	6. Part Five

**I went down the rabbit hole this week and before I knew it I was unable to get out again. I fully blame it on this story and its characters, who refused to do as I asked, causing me to write and re-write and re-write again every single scene. You are welcome to come after me with the pitch fork for not delivering on my promise to be timely but afterwards please settle down and enjoy these two chapters. It would have been nice to have given you 15k words solely of McSpirk cuddling but sometimes we have to settle for the occasional hug instead. :) **

**Thank you to everyone who has patiently followed along, who has supported me through the agony of writing, and especially to those who have taken the time to acknowledge my efforts through comments or reviews or simply kudos. I appreciate all of you!**

* * *

**Part Five**

_Why do I even bother?_ thinks the man sprawled across the hangar floor with a boot painfully pressed into his gut and a bleeding cut on his cheek.

"I'm not lying," he tells his assailant. "Apparently you're next in line to serve the higher purpose."

Jorval sneers down at him. "You humans and your deceitful tongues. It would be a service to relieve you of yours."

Leonard supposes the Governor was right about her nephew inheriting the family temper. It's uncanny how much Jorval resembles his aunt right now. He says with a sigh, "Get your foot off my stomach. I need to check on my friends."

The Aurelian offers him a cruel smile. "You needn't worry they will go anywhere."

Leonard pushes the foot off of him and sits up. "You're a bastard."

He limps his way over to Chekov, the one closest to him, and kneels down, turning the young man over onto his back. He knows Pavel has only been stunned (and with his own phaser, how ironic) but the doctor part of Leonard will always need the reassurance of an examination. He takes Chekov's pulse and checks his pupils, wishing he had his tricorder but knowing it would be futile to demand it back.

"Sorry, Pavel," he apologizes to the unnaturally peaceful face. "You deserve a commendation. Tell Jim I said he has to give you one."

He goes to Spock next and, even more gently, rolls the Vulcan over, straightening out the crooked limbs into some semblance of dignity. He is careful to avoid Spock's hands while he searches for a pulse from the wrist, but afterwards he finds himself violating his own code of professionalism by affectionately brushing back the Vulcan's short bangs.

For a second, the doctor's throat works with emotion. "You're an idiot but thank you. For everything."

There is more he should probably say but the right words seem to desert him. He tucks Spock's arms at Spock's sides and rises slowly to his feet. Without turning around, he says, "Let's get this over with."

At least he doesn't have to die while his shipmates are watching.

But to Leonard's surprise, Jorval doesn't oblige him. Instead the Aurelian wants to know, "The first and second deaths... Who were they?"

Leonard turns around. "The first, that would be the Romulan."

Jorval's gaze hardens. "What Romulan?"

"You called him Doctor, but I knew him by the name of Mark Connors."

Jorval doesn't seem surprised, but he neither denies nor admits knowing Connors operated under a false identity.

Leonard indicates Spock. "The second death was him, or at least the Governor and her husband think so. Since you plan to make his death real, you will be doing them a favor."

"As I should," Jorval replies.

"Then you must be eager to die yourself." To emphasize how little he cares, Leonard makes a nonchalant gesture at the Aurelian. "Whatever. I don't think I want to help you anyway."

Jorval takes a step forward. "How would you help me?"

_Ah, got you._

The doctor locks his hands at his back and rocks slightly on his feet. "I haven't the faintest idea."

"You've insinuated that my own family has betrayed me."

"Seems to be the way of things 'round here."

"Silence, human. I must think on this." Jorval sheathes his sword. A flick of his wrist sends the circle of guards retreating to the opposite side of the hangar. "Tala would destroy me quite readily, given an opportunity. This is the only reason I am willing to entertain your tale as truth. _I_ should be the heir-apparent." One of his hands clenches into a fist. "But now that my aunt has married, by law any child she bears shall become her successor. He _said_ it would not be. He _said_ he bore no affection for her. That there would be no child from their union."

"A man in love will lie through his teeth," Leonard interjects. "And believe me, the Consort looked about as excited as could be to have won his wife's approval. 'Course there's the little matter of sacrificing somebody to finish up whatever their 'joining' is. After that, my guess is that heir will come along in no time."

"How dare they!" hisses Jorval, pacing about with abbreviated, angry movements. "I would rather offer my head for treason than die to bless the sanctity of an Heir!"

"Yes, it's just awful," Leonard murmurs.

Jorval whirls about to glare at the human. "I must show I am not to be trifled with. You will help me. Your ship—take me to it."

Leonard shakes his head. "That's not possible."

The Aurelian puts a hand to the pommel of his sword. "I am not asking."

"And I'm saying _it's not possible_," Leonard shoots back. He doesn't mention that just on principle alone he wouldn't let Jorval step foot on the Enterprise. "I don't have a way to contact my people."

Jorval falls silent.

"And even if we could reach them, there's no way to transport us off the moon."

Jorval still says nothing.

Leonard shrugs. "Now you see why it's hopeless—and why you might as well kill me now. If you don't, it's only a matter of time before your aunt and uncle catch me and get rid of me too. Either way I know my chances of survival are slim."

"There... could be a way for you to live," Jorval reveals slowly. "The building's deflection system can be overridden from the central control tower. Once disabled, we could attempt contact with your starship."

"But the window of opportunity would be brief," Leonard guesses.

"Very brief." Jorval straightens, a strange composure settling over him. "If we try and fail, I swear to end your life as you wish. You will then become the third and final death."

That plan is far less appealing than Jorval makes it sound. Leonard rubs his forehead. "So what's stopping you from killing me now?"

The Aurelian turns away without answering.

Leonard doesn't need the answer because he understands all too well. Jorval has been marked for death; it's only a matter of time before his aunt and uncle find a way to succeed in destroying him.

Suppressing the urge to shudder, the doctor makes an executive decision. "We're out of options. Let's try it. Which way to the guard tower?"

Jorval's slash of a glance contains a hint of his normally annoyed demeanor. "_Control_ tower, Doctor."

"That's what I said." Leonard returns to Spock's side. "Help me get these two up. No, don't look at me like that. I'm not leaving them behind."

Jorval corrects his sneer. "If you insist." A moment later, he tosses Leonard's tricorder to him. "Wake them up."

"It's a tricorder, not an alarm clock."

Luckily, he has a technique that just might work. Bending over Spock, Leonard raises his hand. The first slap creates a resounding thunderclap across the hangar.

"I know you're not in a trance, Spock," Leonard mutters to the unconscious Vulcan, "but I need you to come back now." He slaps Spock's cheek again. "C'mon, hobgoblin... This is our last chance."

Seconds tick by. The Vulcan's head twitches on its own.

Leonard lowers his stinging palm and places it on Spock's chest. "Spock? Can you hear me? Wake up. Please."

Spock's eyes open, narrowly slit, not entirely aware. "...Leonard?"

Leonard breaks into a grin. "Yes, it's _Leonard_, you sleeping beauty. You're still alive." He sits back on his heels. "With some luck you can make it back to the Enterprise before someone attempts to kill you again."

Spock grates out, finally returning to full awareness, "...Luck is for the emotional, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard helps him into a sitting position. "Then consider me ever-so-grateful to be emotional," he replies, wrapping an arm around Spock's shoulders as if intending to pull him in for a hug.

"Not in front of the Aurelian," murmurs Spock.

"I don't care if it's the Aurelians, the Romulans, _and_ the Klingons watching," counters the doctor.

He gives Spock a brief, one-armed hug and when he pulls away, Spock is watching him with peculiar interest. Leonard doesn't know what to think when the Vulcan swipes a thumb across the cut on his cheek. It is unusual for Spock to have no reserve in touching someone, unless that person is Jim.

But before Leonard can ponder these oddities further, Jorval interrupts the moment by nudging the still-unconscious Chekov with the toe of his boot. "Wake this one, or leave him. My patience wears thin, Doctor."

With a sigh, Leonard meets Spock's eyes. "What're the odds one of us can bring Pavel 'round?"

"Without the benefit of being able to telepathically recognize and respond to another's distress, I would say the odds are very poor."

"Then we'll carry him."

"Agreed." Spock stands without the doctor's aid. To Jorval, he inquires politely, "Why have you kept us alive?"

Appearing to be none-too-pleased with them and himself, Jorval replies, "Your human is convincing after all."

"Yes," Spock agrees, the deep timbre of his voice startlingly smooth, "he is like no other."

It's easier for Leonard to pretend he didn't hear that remark because it confuses him more than the look of interest and the touch. Spock is going to need a good psychological evaluation when they return to the ship, he decides. Some of the Vulcan's wiring must have gotten crossed during their adventures.

He stifles another sigh, hoping they make it that far. He would be glad to be occupied with something simpler and safer as worrying about Spock's brain.

Then Spock is at his side helping him lift Chekov from the ground and there is no more time for hope, only action.

* * *

"Put him down gently," Leonard issues the order to the guard in charge of carrying Chekov.

The Aurelian cuts him a look that isn't friendly in the least, but he doesn't simply dump poor Pavel on the floor of the control room. Because the young navigator has been out a little longer than Leonard expected, Leonard scans him over with his tricorder for the umpteenth time, looking for some sign of improvement among the readings.

Jorval pauses by Leonard's shoulder to stare curiously at his tricorder. "I suppose the human is not dead."

"You turned the setting too high," Leonard accuses him. "Even on stun, there's a range to the charge you can use. A high setting on stun can cause serious disruption to the nervous system."

"Are you expecting an apology?"

Leonard firms his mouth and concentrates on Chekov's readings. He knows Jorval is mocking him.

Arriving on the other side of Leonard, Spock diverts Jorval's attention by asking, "Do you have any knowledge of how to operate this system?"

Jorval's gaze narrows, as though Spock had insulted him.

Leonard touches a hand to Spock's arm in concern. "Is it that much different than the system in the operations room? Is it impossible to disable the shield?"

Spock looks to him. "Not impossible but time-consuming without guidance."

Leonard turns to Jorval. "Aren't you going to help?"

"Was it not sufficient to commit treason by bringing you here?"

"What's a little more treason, then?" Leonard argues.

Jorval says nothing for a moment, then motions for the guard he chose to accompany them (and to carry Chekov) to remove himself to the hallway. He walks to the long computerized console that forms a half-circle around part of the room and takes a seat in front of the middle section.

"Huh," Leonard says to Spock after they have been watching the Aurelian for a few minutes, "he looks like he knows what he's doing."

When Jorval turns around in his chair, he informs them, "The program will activate on my command and override the operation of the shield. The breach in security, once detected, will trigger the protocol to lock us out."

Spock approaches the console. "How long do you estimate we have before the breach is detected?"

"Three minutes. No more than five if the security station is unmanned."

"Very well. Explain what I must do."

Leonard takes a step back, feeling that he might hinder Jorval and Spock if he tries to keep a close eye on what they are doing. He kneels next to Chekov and talks to the unconscious man. "Cross your fingers, Pavel. It's come down to the Enterprise or the chopping block."

There is some movement behind Pavel's eyelids.

As Leonard quickly scans him, a sense of relief washes over him. He starts to get up. "Spock, Chekov's coming around."

"Remain where you are, Doctor."

Leonard squats back down. Chekov groans, grabbing his attention. He leans down to hear the word the ensign mutters but is hampered by a lack of knowing Russian.

He lightly smacks Pavel's cheek. "No time for grumbling, kid. Time to wake up. Time to go home!"

"On my mark," Leonard hears Jorval say. "...Now."

He turns to watch Spock's fingers fly across the console as the Vulcan begins the arduous task of pinpointing the right frequency to reach their starship. Spock starts a repetitious monotone of "Spock to Enterprise—come in, Enterprise," and Leonard becomes too nervous to keep watching. Gripping his medical tricorder, he prays.

The prayer strikes a memory, and suddenly Leonard is thinking of another experience years ago. Back then, he had also sent out a prayer, hoping against the odds that the Enterprise would hear the desperate transmission from afar, would save them. But the Enterprise had never answered, couldn't have under the circumstances, and the small shuttle crew he had been a part of had nearly burned up in the atmosphere of a planetoid inhabited by unfriendly primitives. It was Spock who had made a last ditch effort to grab the Enterprise's attention by ejecting the shuttle's fuel. The act had shocked every human on board. That was the first time Leonard had realized Spock was not as entrenched in his Vulcan discipline as he seemed, that Spock could be analytical _and_ human at the same time. Of course, the doctor had still needled at his superior out of habit as the shuttle descended into the atmosphere, but to himself Leonard had made a promise that, should he survive, he would try harder to understand Spock and maybe—just maybe—support him in being so stubbornly Vulcan. The human side, Leonard had secretly felt, would inevitably follow.

Comparing the Spock from then and the Spock of now causes Leonard to smile. He supposes he did too good of a job. His Vulcan is as logical as ever but also surprisingly friendly. And, to think, that Leonard has actually come to like him in return...

"_Mr. Spock!—Mr. Spock!_"

Leonard's head jerks around as Uhura's voice, quickly overlaid by another, fills the static of the computer speaker.

"Mr. Scott," Spock replies, jumping right into his orders, "time is of the essence. We have four to beam aboard. Tie the locator interface into the long-range sensors and direct your search to the surface based on these coordinates." He rattles off where they are.

"_I knew something fishy was going on when your shuttle took off for the twin moon! Uhura, call the lads in the Transporter Room. Working on re-routing that interface now, Mr. Spock._"

"You have one minute and forty-one seconds."

"_Aye, aye. No pressure at all... Sensor input coming through._"

Leonard notices how tightly Spock's hands are gripping the edge of the console. He starts to get up again but Spock's head jerks around and the way the Vulcan's dark eyes pin him tells Leonard that he is going to suffer severe repercussions if he moves a single centimeter from where he is.

"_Sir, I have something. Reading life signs, humanoid, but the locator signal is weak. Cannot identify a match to our database... Mr. Spock..._"

"It is as I expected, Mr. Scott. You will not follow protocol. Lock onto the strongest signal mass and proceed with transportation immediately. That is an order. You have one minute and three seconds."

Leonard has a horrible thought and jumps to his feet. "Spock—Spock, he's not going to be able to get all of us in time!"

Spock whirls around, nearly shouting, "Do not break position, Dr. McCoy!"

Leonard jerks back but only for a moment as he comes to realize what is really going to happen. "You green-blooded bastard!"

Jorval, at first simply watching them, abandons his chair in haste, having parsed too late why Leonard is yelling at Spock and Spock looks so fierce. The Aurelian leaps forward toward Leonard and Chekov at the same time that Leonard leaps towards Spock—and in the next instant, Pavel blinks open his eyes, shimmers and disappears. Jorval stumbles across the empty spot on the floor a second later.

Leonard grabs Spock and Spock grabs him back. They say together, "You..."

"...crazy..." accuses Leonard.

"...foolish..." determines Spock.

"...Vulcan."

"...human."

They stare at each other, incensed, until Jorval forces them to divert their attention by throwing a fit.

"NO!" the Aurelian yells. "No, I must get to your ship! Try again! Try it again!"

"There is no point," Spock says. "The period for escape has passed."

The Aurelian fumbles for his sword and draws it. "I said try again—or I'll kill you!"

Leonard looks to Spock. "Can't you just knock him unconscious?"

"Where is the phaser?"

"The guard has it, I think."

"Do you believe I am joking?" Jorval rages. "_I will kill you both!_"

Spock and Leonard hustle aside as their unstable companion lunges wildly at them and strikes the console instead.

"I will take your heads to the Governor!"

"He's lost it," Leonard summarizes. With his foot, he pushes a chair into Jorval's path and the Aurelian trips over it.

Spock agrees. "I saw no reason to mention that his plan would not succeed as envisioned. I only regret that you were too quick in uncovering my intentions."

"That's me," jokes Leonard. "Smarter than your average human."

Spock's reply borders mournful. "A fact which frequently causes me much grievance."

They move to the opposite side of the console as Jorval takes another futile swipe at them.

"Enough of this," Leonard decides. "Let's get 'im."

Their counterattack is foiled by the opening of the control room door. Even Jorval is startled by the interruption, so much so that the Aurelian lowers his sword and stares vacantly at the figure in the doorway.

It isn't anyone Leonard wants to see. "Crap," he says.

"A succinct summation of the turn of events, Doctor."

Leonard swallows an exasperated sigh. "We're done for, Spock, and all you can say is 'good job'?"

"This is a rather intriguing spectacle," remarks the third party, entering the room with a row of uniformed officers. "Jorval, have I not told you it is not advisable to play with sharp objects if you cannot master them properly." He turns to Leonard and Spock. "The dead has returned to life. Astonishing. How did you manage that, Commander Spock?"

"By not dying, your Lordship," deadpans the Vulcan.

The Consort studies Leonard before inclining his head politely in greeting. "You must be Dr. McCoy. How are you?"

"Hi and not well, thank you," Leonard returns without enthusiasm.

Jorval, frozen in place, doesn't appear to register the movements of the other Aurelians until he is surrounded by them and relieved of his weapon. One of the officers hands the saber to the Consort with a bow. The Consort says something to him, and the officer goes to the computer console and takes a seat.

How foolish of you to help the Federation," the Consort says as he approaches his nephew at a leisurely pace, "and brand yourself a traitor of the People—not that it would matter in the scheme of things."

Jorval stiffens, the lack of sanity he had displayed before fading away to leave behind an undisguised loathing. "So it seems, Uncle. As the words of the Federation are the only words to be trusted, then I have gladly become a fool." When he laughs, the sound is bitter. "I knew you needed a pawn. I even knew you would someday wish to be rid of me, but you have shown your hand too soon. Much too soon!" With that, he lunges from the grip of the guards and steals one of their blades.

The Governor's husband just stands there, not reacting, and soon Leonard realizes why. In his right hand is their phaser. The low whine of it indicates it is set to kill.

"Look out!" Leonard cries, throwing himself forward to grab the back of Jorval's uniform.

They lurch sideways in an awkward tangle of limbs just as the whine of the phaser hits a crescendo and the Consort fires. A blinding blast of energy shoots past the pair, catching three guards unawares. The Aurelians dissipate in an instant, not even able to protest their demise.

"Remarkable!" exclaims the Consort, staring at where his guards had been. He redirects his aim at Leonard and Jorval.

Spock brushes up against Leonard's back, having moved too quickly for Leonard to even realize he had been taken in hand by the Vulcan. Leonard tries only once to shake Spock off before deciding it would be futile.

Eyes wide, Jorval gapes at his uncle. "You almost killed me!"

"That was the intention, Jorval." The Consort lifts the phaser slightly. "I must admit, I had no idea this weapon was so powerful. Quicker and deadlier than a blade by far. I see now why you have been so keen for the militia to have foreign weapons. Men will simply disappear."

"That's not a magic trick you just performed," Leonard breaks in, abhorred by the Aurelian's delight. "You vaporized three innocent people!"

"I would not use the term 'innocent'," murmurs Spock before directing his next remark to the Consort. "Powerful weapons create significant casualties, as you have just observed. Unless you wish to sacrifice the rest of your officers, I suggest you lower the phaser."

The guards standing nearest to Leonard's group shift nervously on their feet.

At length, the Consort tucks the phaser into his sword belt. "Vulcans always speak wisely." He orders his guards to regain custody of his nephew. "Escort him to a holding cell for trial."

Leonard swallows hard and has to look away from Jorval's sudden frantic expression.

Even as the Aurelian is dragged out of the room, he cries for mercy from his uncle.

The Consort gives no sign of being affected by the display. He approaches Leonard and Spock. "You made a valiant effort to escape, but you must know that you have only come this far because my wife has allowed it. Did you think we could not track you?" He gestures at the console. "Especially when you attempt something like this. The sword may be our weapon of choice but we are far from technologically inept. I was alerted the moment you opened a subspace channel."

The officer at the console announces, "Your Lordship, the defense program has been restored."

"Excellent. Is there anything of concern in the records?"

"There is record of a molecular transmission from this room... and the docking pad also received an uninterrupted transmission, Your Lordship."

The Consort goes to the window of the control tower. Following a moment of silence, he turns from the vantage point to say, "Alert the sentry. We have intruders."

Leonard glances sideways at Spock and wonders if they have finally achieved an end to their bad luck.

The Consort lays a hand along the sill of the window. "You look hopeful, Dr. McCoy, but in truth you have failed more miserably than you can imagine." His mouth quirks at one corner. "The Romulans are here."

Leonard releases the breath he has been holding with a curse.

Their bad luck just got worse.

* * *

Leonard has always muttered to himself when he feels particularly helpless. Granted, by doing this he has annoyed people a time or two (or maybe twenty) and sometimes the result of that ended unpleasantly for him, but the verbalization of his anxiety keeps him from freezing during a frightening situation. His head nurse likes to call it his hedgehog response. His caustic wit serves as his prickly spines and is meant to safeguard his softer spots.

Thus he has been rambling since the Consort mentioned the Romulans, poking at no one in particular with his complaints. At the moment his subject matter is focused on their surroundings: "...This is fantastic. The only place I haven't been on this damn moon is the bathroom. Why don't you let me see that before I die, or is courtesy to prisoners a foreign concept to you?"

The Aurelian officer keeping in step with Leonard seems to think he is the recipient of the discourse. He glances frequently at Leonard, and at one point opens his mouth as if to reply. Leonard glares at him, effectively shutting the fool up.

He doesn't want to be interrupted.

"Here we are, being marched to our deaths while people in the ballroom are still drinking and dancing. I can't believe no one has noticed you goons running around. This place has tighter security than the Presidential Complex on election day."

"Leonard."

"Not now, Spock, I'm pontificating on our dire situation."

"I do not think our companions find your conversation amusing."

"So what? I should just accept my death quietly?" Leonard sniffs. "You called me by my first name again."

"I may have no other opportunity to do so."

Leonard purses his mouth, chews on silence for a second, and finally grumps, "...Hobgoblin."

"Strange," remarks the Vulcan. "I have grown fond of that nickname."

If they hold hands, who cares? They're about to die. But Leonard has to admonish himself; he's too shy to try it. He settles for brushing his knuckles against the back of Spock's hand and then pretending it happened by accident.

Weird. Spock's hand brushes up against his too.

He sneaks a glance at his companion. "Remind me to thank you in the afterlife, Spock. You've made my commission interesting."

"Our time together has been worthwhile."

"I'm glad you think so." He has to look away to hide a glimmer of tears. Damn it, he's going to miss the Vulcan. And who will take care of Jim?

The remainder of their march is silent and somber. As the hangar where Mudd abandoned them comes into view, Leonard's shoulders slump in defeat. He doesn't even have the heart to pick up his diatribe.

The Consort halts their group just inside the entrance. "We wait here." To Leonard and Spock, he says, "I assume you have encountered the Romulans before and know better than I how they treat prisoners of war. It is my intention to turn you over to them."

Leonard's stomach sinks. "Why give us to them?"

Spock is the one to provide the answer. "To engineer the final deception. The Romulans will learn that the Federation has interfered and subsequently blame the failure of their negotiations on Captain Kirk. We will become the consolation prize. Then I suspect the Governor will contact the Enterprise and inform them we have been captured by the Romulans."

Leonard grimaces. "Leading both parties into battle while the Aurelians escape the conflict unscathed."

Spock agrees, "That is correct, Doctor. In order to prevent an escalation of war, the Federation and the Romulan Empire will be forced to declare this sector of space as a neutral zone, thereby prohibiting the influence of either party upon Aurelis."

The Consort looks approving. "You are very perceptive, Commander Spock. I see why my wife appreciates you. Now I regret that we had to meet under these conditions; otherwise you and I might have had some stimulating conversations."

Spock raises one eyebrow. "I doubt they would be more stimulating than they are now."

Leonard shuffles closer to Spock. "He prefers peace talks to war games."

"You are very protective of your Vulcan commander," the Consort observes of McCoy. "It seems he is equally protective of you. I am curious... How does this affect your loyalty to your captain?"

Spock adopts one of his comfortingly annoyed expressions. "Your question is not relevant."

No one in their group is expecting another voice to echo across the hangar in reply: "...But I'll gladly answer it for you."

Spock freezes, and Leonard has a moment in which to question his sanity. But when the doctor turns around, he finds that he isn't crazy after all.

Jim Kirk is physically there, crossing the hangar in the forefront of a large party of people.

Spock's body turns taut as a bow string, and a moment later Leonard realizes why: flanking Jim on either side are Romulan officers, one of which bears the insignia of a command rank—and none of them have bothered to disguise themselves.

Leonard's heart slams in his chest. Why did he think things couldn't get worse? Why, oh why, did he ever think that?

When Spock starts in Kirk's direction, Leonard automatically tries to follow. It isn't until two Aurelians block their path with swords that they remember their own precarious situation.

"Your Lordship," Kirk calls in formal greeting, stopping far enough away that they can hear and see him clearly but not close enough to be within reach. "While we appreciate your welcoming party, it was quite unnecessary." His gaze takes in Spock and Leonard without lingering on them. "You've caught my wayward subordinates. I appreciate that too."

"Now this is amusing," remarks the Consort, moving to the front of his group. "Captain Kirk, I am surprised. You located the Romulans _and_ brought them directly to us—but for what purpose?"

Kirk takes on a calculating look that Leonard has seen numerous times yet never once felt easy about.

The Romulan commander steps past Kirk. "On behalf of the Empire, I am here to conclude our negotiations. Captain Kirk has agreed to be our witness."

"...A witness?"

Finally someone has disconcerted the Consort, but Leonard is so disconcerted himself that he can barely think. He echoes a similar disbelief. "What? Jim..."

Kirk doesn't look at him.

Leonard blurts out, "My god, Jim, are you out of your mind!"

Jim offers the Consort a thin smile. "The Romulans want Aurelis. As far as I'm concerned, they can have it—in exchange for my officers."

Feeling sick to his stomach, Leonard grabs Spock's sleeve. "Something's wrong with him."

"This entire scenario is... wrong, Doctor," Spock agrees at length. "Captain, permission to speak freely."

Jim nods, gaze still fixed elsewhere. "Granted."

"The Romulans would not agree to help you solely to preserve the lives of two petty officers. What else have you offered them?"

Jim turns his head to them. There is something strange, a sick desperation, in his eyes. Then it's gone.

"I'll give them the Enterprise."

Leonard feels like he is being strangled by an invisible hand.

Spock becomes eerily silent.

Leonard lets go of the Vulcan and steps toward his friend. "Captain, we need to talk."

"I know what you would say, Dr. McCoy." Jim refuses to meet his eyes again. "But in case you've forgotten, you resigned from your post. You have no authority over me."

"You're emotionally compromised."

Kirk's head whips around and the look he gives Leonard could flay skin from bone. "Is that what you think?"

"Yes, Jim," Leonard squeezes past the lump in his throat. "Spock, you know the protocol."

"I will not take his captaincy."

Shocked, Leonard turns to the Vulcan. "...What?"

"I will not take Jim's captaincy," Spock repeats, staring at the man in question. "You once asserted that my loyalty lies with Captain Kirk. You were correct, Dr. McCoy."

The Romulans look at one another.

Leonard, feeling betrayed, has no one to turn to.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," Kirk says, a pleased smile turning up the corners of his mouth. His tone turns brusque when he addresses the group of Aurelians. "My First Officer will oversee the proceedings of the exchange. In the meantime, I would appreciate a moment of privacy to deal with my Chief Medical Officer."

The Consort says, "You implied he was no longer a member of your crew."

"He isn't," Kirk assures him, "but he did serve well in his position for several years and deserves the respect of his title, if little else. I may let you take care of him for me since there's no point in keeping him now—or I might do it myself. You'll know soon enough."

Leonard doesn't know what to say when Jim closes the distance between them and takes a hard grip on his upper arm. He is fairly certain if he did find his voice, he would make a fool of himself.

Kirk drags him closer.

Leonard digs in his heels.

"Don't fight me," the man warns him, adding after a pause, "...Bones."

In the end Leonard has no fight left in him. Jim called him Bones.

* * *

The hangar office is cramped and cluttered and smells of machinery oil.

As soon as the door closes and their isolation is achieved, Leonard says to Jim, "You had me fooled."

Jim shifts his grip on Leonard and pulls Leonard into his arms. Kirk doesn't say anything, just buries his face into the crook of the doctor's neck.

"Jim...?" Leonard questions after a while. "Don't tell me you're crying."

"Of course not," comes the muffled reply and a pause. "Give me a moment."

Leonard relaxes and secures an arm around his friend's back. "It's all right. Cry all you want. I was close to tears myself, thinking you'd sold yourself to the Romulans."

The two men remain like that for some time, silent and comfortingly close.

When Jim pulls back, he regards Leonard with red-rimmed but dry eyes. "I blame you," he tells McCoy.

"You can't. I didn't send you over to the enemy camp."

"Ah, the things I do," Jim mutters, letting him go. "We can't stay here much longer without drawing suspicion. So, hit me with it. What's your plan, Bones?"

Leonard gapes at him. "My plan?"

"Well I don't have one," Jim replies, his voice grim.

"You engineered a way to get in here without figuring out how to get yourself out again? Oh, I should have known!"

"Believe it or not, Bones, sometimes I do crazy things." Jim steps away to pace but curses when he realizes the size of the office won't accommodate his need to move. He turns back to Leonard. "Do you have any ideas or not?"

"God, no. We'll have to play it by ear and hope for the best."

"What happened to Mudd's shuttle?"

"Took off without us, _after_ he handed us over to the Aurelians."

Jim calls Mudd several names, none of which Leonard would dare repeat in polite company.

Kirk runs a hand over his face. "Spock? Chekov?"

"Chekov made it back to the Enterprise. Spock—you know he's tough to knock down but I'm dubious about that Aurelians have a miracle cure for stab wounds. We need to exercise caution until I can look him over properly in a real med bay."

"If we can exercise caution," Jim amends.

"Yeah, if we can," Leonard agrees. "I don't think you've been in contact with Scotty, so here's what you need to know." Leonard fills him in about the Governor's scheme to fool the Federation and the Romulans.

Jim stays silent while he listens, hands on his hips, gaze focused on a far wall. When Leonard finishes his report, the man only says, "Makes sense."

"Well, glad to know something makes sense to somebody. Frankly I think the Aurelians are off their collective rocker."

"I wish I had the time to explain it to you, Bones."

Leonard waves a dismissive hand. "No need. You lead, I follow, remember?"

Jim turns to him, then, with a mixed expression. "Is that how it works?"

"Uh-oh," Leonard guesses, "is this the part where you 'deal' with me?"

"I don't have time for that either, unfortunately." Kirk vows, "But we will have words, Lieutenant-Commander."

Leonard is planning to bring along brandy for that conversation. Jim's temper always softens in the presence of a good bottle of brandy.

Kirk rubs his forehead, looking resigned to the fact that he has just forfeited his chance to deliver an effective reprimand as he adds, "Just don't do it again."

Leonard can't make that promise and they both know it, so he reaches out to pat the man's shoulder in lieu of agreeing. "At this point we ought to worry more about how to handle the group outside. There's plenty of time to hash out personal conflict later."

"Bring the expensive brandy."

Leonard gives Jim's shoulder a final pat. "You got it. Now for the difficult question: how do we explain things to Command? Or do we even try?"

"I'm not sure what's necessary yet," Jim admits, "except that I have an obligation to report _something_."

"Let Spock figure it out. He's good at circumvention."

Jim looks sideways at the doctor. "Vulcans are known for being straightforward."

Leonard raises his eyebrows. "Have _you_ ever met a straightforward Vulcan?"

"Touché." Jim turns for the door. "Speaking of Vulcans, let's find out how ours is faring." However, before Kirk goes too far, he pauses, glances back, studying Leonard critically from head to toe and concluding, "The beard has to go."

Leonard brushes the side of his bristly jaw with his knuckles. "Why?"

Kirk lays a hand against his neck and says in a funny voice, "Beard rash," before swiftly exiting the room.

"And I'm accused of being the illogical one," Leonard mutters, shaking his head.

He follows Kirk back into the fray.

* * *

Shuffling behind his captain, head down, Leonard sneaks the occasional glance at the congregation of Aurelians and Romulans as he crosses the hangar. Off to the side of the main group, Spock stands with his arms folded, observing as instructed. Kirk and McCoy join him.

Jim mirrors the Vulcan's stance. "Report, Mr. Spock."

"There is little to report, Captain. The Romulans and Aurelians have reached a stalemate in negotiations."

Leonard lifts his head. "Really? Why?"

Both Jim and Spock look at him. Leonard puts his head back down like a properly chastened subordinate. He mutters, "I'm a doctor, not an actor."

"The Romulans have become suspicious since they learned their main ally, Lord Jorval, is unavailable to meet with them. They refuse to release the armaments and weaponry to the Consort. Apparently they have never dealt with him directly before now."

"There's the flaw in firing your cover story. Somebody should show them a picture of Jorval with a noose around his neck. Won't that be entertaining?"

"Bones," Jim warns him in a low tone.

Leonard sees no reason to apologize.

Spock turns to Kirk. "How much do the Romulans know, Jim?"

"As little as I could get away with saying once I transported to the freighter and handed myself over to their captain. They contacted the mothership, so to speak, shortly thereafter and I made a convincing case to the Romulan in charge that I had a vendetta against the Governor. He doesn't believe me for the most part, but he is too tempted by the chance to secure the Enterprise to leave me in his brig."

"...I see. And what was the nature of your vendetta?"

From the corner of his eye, Leonard notices Jim smile slightly.

"She stole my lovers, and Starfleet refused to help me get them back."

The doctor chokes on his own spit.

"An interesting combination of truth and exaggeration. The Romulans may be willing to believe you now that they have seen us together. I recommend you use the opportunity to enlighten them further."

"I intend to do that." Kirk uncrosses his arms and strides forward, calling out the Romulan commander by name.

Spock goes with him, and for a second Leonard is left on his own, given the choice of whether or not to follow them. Staying here might be safer but staying behind means he would miss the action. Decided, he hurries to catch Spock, remembering at the last second to adopt a hang-dog expression as he also slinks up behind Jim.

The Romulan commander turns partly away from the Consort to watch their approach. He comments, "Your companion appears duly chastened. Have you decided to execute him, Captain Kirk?"

Leonard pictures punching the commander in the nose. It's a very satisfying image.

"I will let him live," Kirk replies. "After all, I'm turning over command of a flagship for his sake. I think I need to be repaid for that, don't you?" He adopts a sly expression. "There is a second condition to my terms which I believe I failed to mention earlier."

The Romulan only asks, "What is the condition?"

"How would a human fare in a Romulan fleet?"

"You wish to command one of our vessels?"

"I would hate to give up the lifestyle entirely."

The Romulan looks uncannily like Spock for a moment when the Vulcan is considering all the nuances of a situation. "Captain Kirk," he says, "you are very brave or you are very presumptuous. Either way, that makes you a fool. "

Kirk only continues to look at the commander slyly. "Somehow I doubt you have the authority to tell me no. Why don't we discuss our options later?"

"Very well."

Kirk nods in satisfaction and turns to the Governor's husband. "I see no reason to cover for you anymore. Once the Romulans have control of my ship, they will want to know about the other Romulan onboard."

The Romulan commander stiffens. "There is a Romulan on the Enterprise? Kirk, explain."

Jim shrugs one shoulder. "He was your spy, Commander, but sadly he's dead. The Aurelians killed him."

That is the spark which lights the fire: the Romulans draw their weapons at the same time that the Aurelians unsheathe their swords.

Maybe, Leonard decides, he doesn't want to be this close to the action after all.

The Consort croons to Kirk, "Well played, Captain."

But Jim raises his hands and speaks quickly. "Gentlemen, before you declare war I have a suggestion to make. Why don't we meet with the Governor to settle the matter?"

The Consort, having chosen the phaser instead of his saber, aims the weapon at Jim.

Spock steps forward to cover Jim, as does Leonard.

_If looks could kill_, he thinks, _Jim-boy would already be dead._

Kirk is one to thrive in threatening situations and, even with his hands raised in placation, is obviously in complete control. "It's the Governor who owns these men, Commander. It has always been the Governor, which is why a plot to overthrow her was doomed to fail from the beginning. But I know something of her kind, and I think the Empire might find her more amendable to a chat than originally assumed... if you approach her diplomatically."

The Consort's expression shutters.

Leonard thinks, _Careful, Jim, careful._

Jim lifts his chin. "What is your opinion, Your Lordship? Can the Governor accommodate the Romulans?"

"If the incentive is sufficient."

"Then I shall speak to your Governor," the Romulan commander declares. "But heed this warning, all of you: more than one thousand arms are on my ship, along with men to deploy them at my command. If I cannot secure Aurelis for the Empire, I will destroy it." He shifts his gaze to the humans in the group. "That includes anyone who stands in my way."

"Understood," notes Kirk.

The Consort orders his officers to lower their swords. He himself acts more slowly, tucking away his stolen phaser into the front of his belt.

Jim lowers his hands and watches the Aurelians and Romulans organize themselves.

Leonard leans toward him, wanting to know, "Is this a good idea?"

"What choice do we have but to beat them at their own game?" Jim replies.

Spock says, "I would tend to agree."

The doctor points at the armed Aurelian guards headed their way and says, "Then let's hope they are taking us back to the party."

* * *

Leonard turns in a full circle, observing his new and yet terribly familiar surroundings with unease. "So, back where we started. I guess there's some irony to be found in that."

At the balcony's open door, Kirk stands unnaturally still, his back to the room and the occupants in it. He hasn't offered a comment since he, Spock, and McCoy were locked inside the study.

Leonard hates that he can't discern what Jim is thinking, and so he tries again. "What do you think is happening right now?"

Turning away from his commune with Kirk's back, Spock comments, "I doubt we will be required to wait indefinitely to find out, Doctor. We are, you might say, a loose end."

"That's not comforting, Spock."

"The truth is rarely comforting."

Before Leonard can think of some witty comeback to that, Jim breaks in, "I can see the stars."

Spock and Leonard turn as one towards their captain.

Jim points to the sky. "The Dome doesn't block out the stars. It used to." He turns around. "This waiting is the part I could do without."

Jim never has enjoyed waiting but that isn't why he looks so somber, thinks Leonard. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what, Bones?"

"What's bothering you."

Kirk is only silent for a second. "Did I do the right thing?"

"You did what was logical," Spock answers.

Leonard nods. "What he said."

Kirk observes much too seriously, "If the two of you are in agreement, then I have something to worry about."

Spock unlocks his hands from behind his back. "Captain, if your purpose in asking our opinions is to determine the extent to which we condemn you for your actions, you will find no such judgment from Dr. McCoy or myself. You have prevented the Aurelians from starting a war. You have potentially saved hundreds of lives."

"At what cost, Spock? The Romulans? Their lives?"

"That sin would fall on the Aurelians, not you," Leonard points out. "Look, Jim, sometimes the best we can do under the circumstances seems like a poor substitute for what we consider to be right, but there is some justice at work here. Like Spock said, you've forced the Aurelians to deal with their problems directly. The Governor will likely still betray the Romulans, but at least you gave the Romulans a chance to see the knife being directed at them. That's more than they might have done for us."

Jim looks away. "I've always thought that the responsibility for the safety of four hundred lives is worth the price of being a starship captain. This... this is too much. I don't want this."

"Then don't try to carry the galaxy on your shoulders," Leonard tells him. "Nobody has asked you to."

"If I don't, who will?"

Leonard has been aware of this fear of Kirk's for a long, long time. He suspects it stems from the trauma of Tarsus IV, but knowing why is a far cry from a cure and even now he isn't certain how to challenge Jim and give him a clearer perspective. He can only try to temper Kirk's burden by offering his help.

And that's what he does now by moving to the man and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You're not alone, Jim."

Jim nods. "As long as I'm not alone..."

But, as usual, Jim never finishes that statement. One day Leonard will ask Jim what he thinks would happen if they are not with him.

Deciding now is the time to confess, probably the _only_ chance he has left, he draws a quick breath.

"Jim, there's something I want to tell you but it's going to sound awful."

The distance fades from Jim's eyes. "You can tell me."

"I wasn't going to say anything about overhearing Jorval and Connors at the party."

Kirk shifts under his hand, not pulling away, but turning to face him more fully with a questioning look. Leonard's admission has startled him.

Leonard lets his hand slide off his captain's shoulder. "At first I was, but I had changed my mind. It was only when Jorval came after me that I realized it was risky to keep it to myself." He hates to put it like that because it makes him sound like a coward but the truth, as Spock had said, can be uncomfortable.

In this case, it's downright unpleasant. He thinks about how bad the sabotage could have been if he had said nothing, pretended to know nothing. At the end of the evening, they would have lost everything to the Aurelians and never known why. He feels ashamed.

He isn't aware of Spock having circled around him until the Vulcan is standing side by side with Kirk.

Spock asks him the simplest question of all: "Why?"

Why, indeed. In that moment the reason becomes clear to Leonard, and so it is with deep regret that he confesses to jealousy.

His confession brings a tilt to Spock's head and prompts a command of "_Explain_" from Kirk.

There are too many aspects to consider, too many unspoken feelings, too many caveats that could affect their future. Leonard cannot simply say, _You don't care for me the way you care for each other and that hurts because I care about you._ If he did something that foolish, he might as well resign his commission a second time. He settles for pointing out what they might not know about each other.

"Spock is your most trusted officer."

Jim's gaze sharpens, scans Leonard's face for other clues.

A hint of a drawl comes into the doctor's voice as he turns to the Vulcan. "And, Spock... Did you know that when you were in the Governor's hands, Jim practically begged me to yell at him for considering a command decision that would put you at further risk? Begged."

"_Bones._"

Leonard touches his bottom lip. "So I guess you could say I'm a little jealous of how close you two are to each other. It's not... an unnatural response, since we're all friends. But I shouldn't have let my jealousy take precedence over my duty as a Starfleet officer."

"I fail to understand why you are concerned with a possibility which in the end was avoided anyway."

It's the type of response phrased just perfectly to scrape at Leonard's temper. His blue eyes flash at Spock. "I'm trying to apologize, you pointy-eared computer."

"As usual, Doctor, you concern yourself with what is irrelevant and ignore the practicalities."

"Sorry not all of us can condense our emotions to decimal points!"

"Enough," Jim interrupts. "Spock, there is validity to McCoy's concern—but I know you, Bones, and I trust that you would have come to me."

"You can't be sure."

"I can," Kirk says solemnly, "because Spock isn't my only most trusted officer."

"Quite so," murmurs Spock.

Leonard looks from one to the other and realizes they aren't simply trying to make him feel better. "You knuckleheads," he says fondly.

"There is no need to be insulting, Doctor."

"Hobgoblin."

"More acceptable."

With warmth in his eyes, Kirk takes hold of Spock and McCoy's respective shoulders and gives them a brief squeeze.

Spock ends the moment by asking for Leonard's medical tricorder.

"What for?" Leonard questions, handing it to the Vulcan.

Spock wanders to the glossy-topped desk positioned in front of the window overlooking the balcony. "It is possible to use the tricorder as a communication device. I did not suggest it earlier because the re-programming of the function-based algorithms would take time we did not have." He begins to peel the back off the tricorder and places it on the desk.

Leonard makes a face. "If you break it, what am I supposed to scan you with?"

"I assumed that you would be content to utilize the archaic methods of examination which other medical professionals discarded centuries ago."

Leonard turns to Jim. "Now he's just being rude."

Jim leans a hip against the desk. "How long will it take you, Spock?"

"One hour at most, if Dr. McCoy does not distract me."

"Bones, don't distract Spock."

"My god, I was better off in the company of the Aurelians. At least they baited me less."

"Who baits whom is a matter of opinion, Doctor."

Leonard takes a seat at the desk, ignoring that remark.

Several minutes pass in silence. Then Spock asks, "Have you and the Captain resolved your differences?"

The question almost seems idle, except that Spock is not one to make idle conversation while he's focused on another task.

Leonard shares a look with Jim over Spock's shoulder.

Jim mouthes, _No idea,_ but then a hint of mischief comes into his eyes. "Not quite. I'm undecided about reinstating McCoy's commission."

The Vulcan drops the tricorder.

Leonard holds his breath for half a second before he bursts into laughter. Kirk smiles.

Spock stares at the tricorder on the floor like he cannot figure out how it ended up down there.

"That was a joke, Spock," Leonard says, trying to talk, breathe, and quell his laughter all at the same time.

"I really was joking," Jim admits.

Spock stares at the tricorder for a moment longer before stooping down to pick it up. "Gentlemen," he says once he straightens up, "there is no humor to be found in such a remark."

"Apparently not," soothes Leonard, leaning forward to brace his forearms on his thighs. "I guess it upsets you that I might leave. I'm touched, Spock."

"Naturally you are reading more into a sequence of events than is logical, Dr. McCoy. The tricorder merely... slipped."

"Do you want another hug?"

"Negative," the Vulcan replies, moving back to put a significant distance between them. "Captain, if you would assist me by removing the telecom built into the desk, I estimate we can shorten the conversion time by forty-three point six-four percent if we sync the computer hardware."

While Spock tries to restore his Vulcan dignity, Leonard wraps his hands around his knee and thinks on how much he enjoys seeing Spock so ruffled, just as he enjoys the idea that Spock is affected by the thought of losing him as the CMO.

Heart warmed, he waits until Jim and Spock are occupied with piecing together the two technologies before he rises from his chair and approaches them in the sitting area of the study. There, he leans forward as though interested in observing their work from over their shoulders.

Jim turns his head to Leonard and, still smiling faintly, asks, "Want to help?"

"Just tell me what to do," Leonard replies, returning the smile.

Spock sighs the tiniest bit through his nose. "Take a seat, Doctor."

* * *

"Is it working?"

"Not since you last inquired forty seconds ago." Spock's tone is clipped in a way that means his patience with Leonard has nearly run out.

Twenty minutes into the hour, Jim had given up on trying to mediate between them and sprawled in a wing-backed chair to take a nap. Leonard has considered taking tiny pieces of his tricorder left over from Spock's science project and pinging them off Kirk's head to see how far they bounce, but at one point when he started to try it, the blasted Vulcan plucked the plastic clip from his fingers and set it out of his reach.

Leonard still isn't sure how Spock knew what he was up to.

Bored again, he asks, "Is it working yet?"

Spock ceases what he is doing to give Leonard the brunt of a Vulcan glare.

"The answer must be no." He reminds the Vulcan, "If it doesn't work, you've destroyed a perfectly functional medical tricorder."

Jim opens his eyes. "Bones."

"What?"

"If Spock knocks you out, I'm not carrying your unconscious body back to the Enterprise."

"Spock wouldn't dare touch me."

But the odd glitter in the Vulcan's eyes insinuates that Leonard could be wrong. Just to be safe, Leonard scoots back towards Jim's chair.

Jim sighs and closes his eyes again.

Leonard watches Spock slowly sift through a pile of mechanical parts and wires scavenged from various electronic devices around the study and decides he can let Spock work in peace for a few minutes.

Minutes turn into another half-hour. Leonard starts to doze, startles himself awake when he realizes he hasn't actually slept in nearly twenty-four hours, then dozes off again.

He wakes to a hand on his shoulder, Jim's, urging him to get up. He sees why.

The Governor and her Consort have arrived. The latter releases the arm of his wife and moves toward them.

Leonard glances guiltily at Spock's work table but finds it cleared of any evidence of their tinkering.

"We apologize for keeping you waiting," the Aurelian says. "We had to attend to our other guests."

"And how did those guests fare?" Jim questions politely, his face impassive.

The Governor walks around the desk and takes a seat. "Do you like games, Captain?"

"That depends on the nature of the game and my opponent."

The Governor leans back in her chair, crosses her legs, and steeples her fingers. "What did you seek to win tonight?"

Jim places his hand on top of the chair he had been resting in earlier. "A fair chance."

"Hm." The Governor transfers her gaze to Leonard, then dismisses him altogether to study Spock. "May I see what you have been working on?"

No one in the room moves.

"No?" inquires the Governor. "Very well, then. Husband, show Captain Kirk how we respond to a lack of cooperation."

Leonard swallows hard as the Consort takes the phaser from his belt and flicks it on.

"That's enough," he protests. "We get it."

"No, you do not understand the stakes of this game, Dr. McCoy. I would prefer that you did. The Vulcan, Husband."

Instantly Jim and Leonard shift to form a shield in front of Spock.

The Governor's eyes glitter. "If not the Vulcan, then the human healer."

Jim grabs Leonard's arm and forces Leonard to stand in between him and Spock.

Delighted, she laughs. "There now," the Aurelian says, uncoiling from her chair and coming to her feet in one fluid motion, "you do have some understanding." She lowers her husband's phaser arm. "The device," she commands.

Spock removes one hand from behind his back and silently offers up their communicator.

But the Governor doesn't take it. "What does it do?" she inquires.

"At the moment, nothing. It is not functional."

"What was its intended purpose?"

"To contact the Enterprise."

"Ah. I was hoping you had been foolish enough to build a weapon I might use against you. No matter. If it's your ship that you so desperately wish to contact, then I am not opposed to granting this small favor."

"In exchange for what?" Kirk demands.

"There is no exchange, Captain. I am in a position to be generous because you have been generous to me." She smiles. "Your officers gave me Jorval, and you offered me a fine Romulan commander. A trio of deaths has been achieved. I am pleased."

Jim inhales the tiniest bit, and Leonard feels the news like a punch to his gut.

He never wants to see these people again, but he's terribly afraid they will be haunting him for a long time.

"Then what is your purpose in keeping us confined here?" It is Spock who gives voice to the next logical thought regardless of the emotional impact, who refuses to let them linger on what might overwhelm them.

The Governor places her hand on the Consort's shoulder. "There will be a celebration soon. You should be honored for your part."

"Honored?" Jim repeats, the word forced. "Honor implies an act of worthiness by a willing participant. There is no honor in being manipulated by you."

"If I cannot honor you, then I must forsake you."

"Not unless we forsake you first."

Jim seems to have said something she wanted to hear because the Governor nods her head. "So it shall be, Kirk." She removes a small device from a pouch attached to her sword belt and tosses it to the floor at their feet. "Call your ship," she challenges them. "Tell them we will open the transportation channel within the hour and they must retrieve you or you will never be seen again."

"You're letting us go? Why?"

"Why not, Doctor? The party is ending. My guests wish to go home." She tilts her head. "And what could possibly have transpired here that you could accuse me of and be believed?"

With that final remark, the Governor turns on her heel and exits the study. Her husband offers them a formal bow before he silently follows in her wake.

Leonard retrieves the communicator from the floor because Jim makes no move to pick up. Wordlessly he hands it to Spock. Then he looks in the direction that the Governor had gone, and something uncontrollable takes hold of him.

He's running for the door before he thinks twice about it.

Behind Leonard, Jim calls his name, voice sharp.

Swinging into the corridor, Leonard cries after the Aurelians, "What kind of monsters are you?!"

The pair pauses at the end of the hall. The Governor turns back to look at him.

A hand grabs Leonard's arm, hard enough to bruise. "_Bones_."

"I've had enough," he tells Kirk angrily, trying to pry open the man's grip.

"Let it go, McCoy."

"With all due respect, Captain, I resigned. I don't have to follow your orders."

Finally succeeding in freeing himself, Leonard stalks towards the Aurelians, thinking that even if it's the last thing he does, he is going to give them a piece of his mind.


	7. Epilogue

**IMPORTANT - Part Five and Epilogue posted together. Please be certain you have read the previous part.**

* * *

**Epilogue**

"Dr. McCoy," the Governor of Aurelis muses in her mildest voice yet, "did I not warn you that I will not tolerate insult?"

"Then shut me up," challenges the doctor, "because I don't have any intention of staying silent."

She places a stalling hand on her husband's arm when the Aurelian reaches for his weapon. "Go on."

Jim and Spock approach Leonard and pause casually at his side.

His focus and fury remains on the Aurelians. "I didn't think Aurelis was so criminalist that it had no laws." He has no difficulty making his disgust known. "But given that you're as cold as they come, I guess I shouldn't be surprised no one cares about the murder of his neighbor. Well, we're _not_ that heartless in the Federation. Life matters. Life is _valued_—even life as scummy as yours. You've destroyed people without provocation and for senseless reasons. You're intelligent enough to know that no one has die to unify your marriage, and yet you chose to do it anyway. I don't have respect for you, Governor. I can't because you're the antithesis of everything I believe in." He draws a breath and concludes, "So kill me if you want but know that when you do, you've only proven my point."

The silence in the hallway is deafening.

Leonard's body still vibrates with anger and his heart may hurt for the loss of life but he also feels a sense of peace because he hasn't let his fear silence him.

The Governor releases her husband's arm, showing no inkling of rage, embarrassment, or anything other reaction to the verbal lashing.

And then she steps towards Leonard and extends her hand.

He stares at the slender fingers, the bony knuckles. Surely she doesn't expect him to shake her hand, not after what he just said!

Spock says, "It is a custom of the Aurelians to offer a hand when they wish to show respect."

"I'm not interested in your respect," Leonard informs the Governor, unnerved. He crosses his arms and for good measure tucks his hands into his armpits to make them inaccessible.

The Aurelian lowers her hand. "It has been a long time, Doctor, since I have been reprimanded so candidly. Not since the time of my predecessor."

_Oh, great_, he thinks. Now she's comparing him to her mother.

The Consort turns to his wife. "Lovely One, the human has insulted you. By law, I must avenge your honor."

"You will do nothing to this human, Husband. I stand accused of murder. I will address the charge. " The Governor motions for the men to follow her. "Come."

Leonard looks to Jim but Kirk gives him a slight push ahead, saying, "Your lead, Bones."

All of a sudden he is not certain of what he has done but no one seems upset with him other than the Consort. How ironic, he thinks, that in such a short period of time he has gone from the dirt beneath the Aurelian's shoe to their most respected off-worlder.

It just convinces him further that the Aurelians are quacks.

* * *

"Are we going to the gardens? I think we're going to the gardens. Lord, please don't let it be the maze again," Leonard says, keeping up a stream of one-sided conversation.

Despite the pinched skin around his eyes, Jim doesn't bother to hide how amused he is. "Enjoying yourself, Bones?"

He indicates the Aurelian couple not far ahead of them on the path. "The scenery leaves something to be desired but the elbow room is better."

"I'll keep that in mind for the future."

Leonard harrumphs and switches his attention to Spock. "Cat got your tongue, Mr. Spock?"

"Your running commentary is hardly conducive to outsider participation."

"Yeah, well, your silence spooks me. Does he do this to you when you're in charge, Jim?"

"No, Spock talks to me."

"Forget it. You're both too insubordinate to appreciate my leadership skills."

The Vulcan parries, "When did you become skilled?"

Jim gives Leonard's back an encouraging little push when the doctor brakes along the stone path to glare at Spock. "No time for that," the captain murmurs. "We'll lose sight of them."

Leonard realizes Jim is right and, cursing, takes off at a quicker speed. Now he knows why he doesn't want to be in the lead. It's too damn cumbersome for arguing!

They pass a low wall of an empty courtyard and turn the corner of the mansion to reveal a wide-open view of the grounds. This time Leonard brings his heels down and so do the others.

"What in blazes?" he says, spying where the Aurelians have gone.

The atmosphere turns ominous. Kirk starts across the grassy lawn like a descending thundercloud, his entire body tense with anger.

Leonard throws his common sense to the solar winds and hurries after Jim.

"Now, now," appeals Kirk's target, throwing up his hands, "Captain, let's act reasonably!"

"_Mudd_," snarls Kirk.

Leonard ducks around his friend just in time to place himself between the men. Spock arrives on the scene at a sedater pace, appearing to care little that his captain is about to pummel a civilian in plain view of many of the galaxy's elite.

The Governor greets them with a serene nod. "Captain, Doctor, Commander... may I introduce you to Mr. Harcourt Fenton Mudd? Mr. Mudd was gracious enough to supply our stock of crystal for the Gala at an extreme discount."

Harry chuckles nervously, tugging one end of his moustache through his fingers.

"We know who he is," Jim replies too sharply. "What remains unclear is why he is here."

Mudd laughs nervously. "I came back for you?"

Leonard snorts.

Of the Aurelians, Spock inquires, "How long has Mr. Mudd acted as your informant?"

The Governor strokes the hilt of her saber. "Since I hired him to work with my wine trader."

Leonard sucks in a breath. "You mean _Mudd_ is the one who has been spying on the Romulans for you?"

"It's called a double-cross, boys," Harry informs them. "Of course, I was apprehensive at first at the thought of betraying my business partner. Connors was an excellent salesman."

"He was a Romulan spy," Leonard contests.

"Yes, yes, I was quite shocked to learn of his true identity. That, Dr. McCoy, is why I am ever-so-grateful to this lovely Aurelian lady here. I had no idea I was involved with Romulans! To think, I could have been killed at any moment by those nefarious creatures!"

"Get to the point, Mudd," Kirk says in warning.

"My point is that I am a loyal Federationalist."

"That's not a word," Leonard mutters to Spock.

"Affirmative."

"I had to stop the invasion of the Empire, you see." The deeper Mudd delves into his tale, the more puffed up with pride he becomes. "I became an agent! My mission, to spy. Very top secret, Kirk, very _dangerous_."

"Very profitable," surmises the captain.

Mudd nods and says before he can catch himself, "Yes, yes—I mean, no. Credits were hardly a concern, merely a token compensation in comparison to the honor I felt in restoring the order of my galaxy."

Kirk releases a long sigh through his nose and closes his eyes, visibly holding himself in check from reacting.

Mudd clears his throat. "To make a long story short, good sirs, I reported to the Governor on the activities of my partner and any suspicious characters he contacted."

Jim opens his eyes, the look in them as hard as his voice. "You also ratted out my men."

Harry's gaze darts back and forth. "That, uh, was an unfortunate side-effect of my mission, Captain Kirk. Honestly, I am _ashamed_ to have abandoned my brothers-in-arms."

Reaching the limit of his patience, Leonard rounds on the Aurelians. "Why did you bring us here? What does this have to do with anything?"

The Governor pins him with her silver eyes. "You accused me of having no regard for life, Doctor."

"The word is murderer."

"And so I am."

Leonard presses his mouth into a thin line.

"But," the Aurelian continues, "I am not insensitive to the plight of the weak. What I decide, whom I kill, ultimately will protect my people and preserve our culture. Not all that is done is for the sake of a game. Aurelians are not that irresponsible, as you seem to believe." She indicates Mudd. "Here is a life that was saved." Her open palm turns to encompass her estate. "Here is a place which has been protected by my actions."

"At what price?" Leonard counters.

"Three lives." She drops her hand. "Three lives in exchange for thousands. Some—healers such as yourself—have the duty to save one life at a time. Others must think more broadly. Ask your captain. This is something he would know well."

"I may understand your position," Kirk allows, "but I can condemn it at the same time. You missed McCoy's point, Governor. Men did not have to die tonight. If a path exists which can preserve all life, it is your moral obligation to take it."

"Even to preserve an enemy?" she questions.

"Even then," Jim agrees.

"I admit that is a foreign concept to my teaching, and it seems valueless when you say it. Perhaps we have discovered why Aurelis is not a match for the Federation."

"What is incomprehensible to a child may be easily understood by an adult," Spock says. "I would suggest that there is wisdom your people have yet to achieve, and it is unfortunate that it cannot be quickly learned. Captain, we have our answer to one of the questions that has been troubling us since the beginning."

"Not quite yet, Mr. Spock." Jim faces the Aurelians. "There are only two things I require of you right now: I need an official statement from you on your involvement in the events tonight and—depending on what you choose to say—I need either your commitment to align with the Federation or your assurance that Aurelis will no longer involve itself in our intergalactic politics."

"Quite the ultimatum, Captain."

Mudd lifts a finger. "Can I go now?"

Mudd is ignored.

"We're both at fault, Governor. The Federation let you act as you pleased while assuming you had the maturity to play by the rules, and you abused the trust you were given. In this case, I don't believe we would gain anything by giving you a second chance but I am required to offer it to you. You can have some time to think on what you want. The Enterprise will remain in orbit until we have your response."

It is a subtle threat, and one that Leonard approves of greatly.

The Governor shifts to drum her fingertips against her hip, staring at them as though they actually interest her for the first time. "What if I declare Aurelis as an enemy of the Federation?"

Kirk clearly has no more tolerance for fools. "Then we'll deal with you accordingly."

"I admire a man with backbone, Captain Kirk. If in the beginning the Federation had sent you to Aurelis to negotiate terms, we might have come to an accord."

"You would find that I am not very diplomatic."

"No, of course," she agrees. "You're a soldier."

"Only when I have to be," he argues. "Thank you. You have addressed a large part of my concern. Once we receive your statement, we will be on our way." He flips open his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."

"_Enterprise here. Lt. Uhura speaking, Captain. We can read you clearly._"

Kirk's eyes meet Mudd's. "Prepare to receive us by shuttle."

"_Aye aye, sir_."

Mudd sidles backwards but it is Spock who comes up behind the man and renders him unconscious by a nerve-pinch.

"Feeling mean, Spock?" Leonard teases.

"He is not necessary to the operation of the shuttle when there will be three trained officers aboard."

"Good call," praises their captain, snapping his communicator closed.

Leonard slides in close to Jim, feeling better that they are finally—all three of them—going back to the ship. And he isn't sorry to leave the Aurelians behind, especially as he watches the Consort shift beside the Governor and whisper something in her ear.

Her mouth curves in a wicked smile.

Leonard knows it will be a cold day in hell before they ever change.

"Let's get off this moon," Jim says.

Certainly neither Leonard nor Spock are going to protest that order.

* * *

The shuttlecraft is no better or worse than it was before.

"Now I know you're feeling mean," Leonard remarks to Jim as he steps around Mudd's legs. "You didn't have to hog-tie the sad son of a gun."

"Better safe than sorry," Jim answers in a grim tone.

"Or tape his mouth shut."

"Do _you_ want to listen to him for the duration of the trip?"

Leonard thinks on that and sighs. "Got a point there, Jim-boy." But he does slide a blanket under the unconscious trader's head as Jim climbs to the nose of the vessel.

Spock is flipping console switches from the pilot's seat. Jim takes the co-pilot's seat and Leonard picks a crate low enough to sit on and maneuvers it into the middle.

"The flight routes are outdated," Spock tells them, "but the auto-pilot is functional. I have connected our transmitter sequence with the Enterprise for navigational guidance."

"So we just sit back and relax." Leonard looks down at his crate and decides he can grip it tight enough in lieu of a seatbelt if the ride gets rocky.

Kirk glances back at him. "Bones, that's not safe."

"Not my fault there're only two seats in this sardine can. I had to cradle Chekov like a baby the entire way. Damnedest, most uncomfortable shuttle ride I've ever had."

Jim looks at Leonard a moment longer before patting his lap in a silent invitation.

Leonard stares at him. "You've got to be joking."

"Safety comes first, Bones."

The doctor feels a flush start at the base of his neck and spread out from there. "Jim, no. I'm fine right where I am. This thing's sturdy!" The crate gives an ominous creak as Leonard leans his weight to one side.

The captain won't be budged. "You've got two choices: my lap or Spock's."

Spock jerks his head around, his "_Sir_" sounding shocked.

Leonard thinks there might be some merit to sitting on Spock because Spock would turn green and Leonard could threaten to touch his ears all the way back. On the other hand, Spock would then refuse to speak to him outside of ship's business for at least a month afterwards.

"All right," he says with a sigh, "but don't complain later."

Jim unclips his seatbelt, waits until Leonard is settled sideways across his lap, and then clips the belt back into place. The result is that the belt squashes Leonard into Kirk's chest.

"Comfortable?" he drawls sarcastically.

Kirk locks his arms around the doctor's waist. "Absolutely."

"Shut up, Jim."

Spock interrupts them with "Commencing liftoff in ten seconds." He begins the countdown.

Leonard tightens his grip on Jim's gold tunic when the shuttle thrusters engage. "What're the odds that we crash before making it out of the Dome?"

Spock opens his mouth.

Jim cuts in, "That was a rhetorical question, Spock."

Spock glances at them, eyebrow lifted. "It did not seem rhetorical."

Leonard groans. "He was really going to tell us our chances of dying, wasn't he?"

One of Kirk's thumbs rubs a circle against Leonard's back. "It's all right. We regularly beat the odds."

Leonard grows silent, thinking about all the times they nearly haven't—and thinking about how close they came this time to dying because of a race that felt no remorse for causalities.

"Let it go," Jim advises him.

For once, McCoy listens.

* * *

Home, sweet home, they say. Leonard McCoy is not one for histrionics but he thinks there would be some merit in kissing the bay floor. Standing near the top of the rickety ramp on the docking platform of the Enterprise's shuttle bay, he runs his hands over his face and mutters, "I'm never leaving this ship again."

"Can I have you sign something to that effect?"

"You're not funny," he tells Kirk.

Jim squeezes his shoulder as he passes by.

Spock joins Leonard and together they cross the platform. "I am surprised you did not applaud our landing, Doctor."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Always. But I suppose I cannot fault such sentiment. It is nice to be back."

"Because we're home, you mean."

Spock slants an enigmatic look at him. "Perhaps."

At the far end of the bay, a set of doors slide open and a streak of red barrels across the docking area.

Leonard is fairly certain he has never seen Scotty flat-out run like that.

The engineer pulls up just shy of the platform, looking torn between laughing and crying. "Capt'n." Once Jim comes down the steps, Scotty clasps him by the shoulders. "Glad to see you alive, sir."

"Thank you, Scotty. We brought you a parting gift from the Gala. Have Security escort him to the brig."

"It'd be my pleasure."

Leonard nudges Spock, then calls out with a twinkle in his eyes, "Welcome to the fold, Mr. Scott!"

Scotty turns to look at him and does a double-take. "Dr. McCoy?"

"It's the beard," Leonard explains to Spock. "Guess it has to go. Thankfully I'm good-lookin' enough without it."

"How unfortunate that an aesthetic improvement to one's appearance does not correlate to an improvement in personality."

Jim snorts. Leonard sputters.

Scotty sighs. "...Everyone's fine. I need a nap."

Leonard drags the Vulcan down the platform steps with a low growl. "Where's the med team? Mr. Spock is due in Sickbay."

Jim tries to scoot unnoticed past Scotty but Leonard's arm snakes out and latches onto the back of the man's tunic.

"The Captain will accompany Mr. Spock," he declares.

Kirk grimaces. "Bones."

"You know the protocol for returning hostages, Captain." Leonard shifts his grip from Spock's arm to his wrist and accordingly transfers his other grip to Kirk's wrist as well. "You know what? Don't worry about that med team, Scotty. I'll escort these two goobers to Sickbay myself."

The engineer in question just shakes his head and turns away, walking back out the bay.

Leonard manhandles his charges toward an emergency turbolift.

One of them complains, "I do not require assistance to walk." The other one drags his feet like a stubborn puppy.

Leonard corrals them into the lift with a grin on his face.

It will be a tale for later that a scraggly bearded pirate came aboard the Enterprise and stole the Captain and First Officer away. No one in the know will bother to contest that. After all, those who work on the Enterprise learn quickly that their starship is run not by one, not by two, but by _three_ command officers. A triumvirate, they have been called.

And a triumvirate Kirk, Spock, and McCoy shall always be.

**The End**


End file.
